


How to Write a Play

by sweetNsimple



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko loves Leon S. Kennedy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An OC is the transphobic rapist, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Ada Wong, BAMF Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko, BAMF Leon S. Kennedy, Bottom Leon S. Kennedy, Can you feel how much I despise Republicans as you read this story?, Cock Warming, Cunnilingus, Does that explain anything?, Dubious Science, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea how to tag for this story, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infected Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko, Infected Billy Coen, Invasion of Privacy, Las Plagas (Resident Evil), Leon S. Kennedy loves Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko, M/M, Misgendering, Plot to overthrow government, Post-Resident Evil: Vendetta, Protective Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko, Protective Leon S. Kennedy, The transphobic rapist is a republican senator, Trans Leon S. Kennedy, Transphobia, Vaginal Sex, unrealistic science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 73,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: Republican Senator Terse Dolence knew that he was going to be voted out in 2020. He knew that the rape allegations against him would get traction and likely ruin him. He was not particularly worried, however. Over his senatorship, he had collected several BOW's in order to control the House majority to protect himself. The only dilemma he was truly concerned about was DSO agent Leon Scott Kennedy.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Alexander "Sasha" Kozachenko
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	1. Create An Interesting Plot

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST OF ALL: None of my government bodies are real people. I went out of my way to make sure that I did not name any real representatives or senators. HOWEVER, and you may notice, some of the government bodies are... inspired by real members of Congress. Terse Dolence is NOT inspired by any government member. I just want to be clear about that.
> 
> SECOND OF ALL: Terse Dolence is scum of the earth. He is explicitly transphobic. Not only that, but he is a rapist and he targets trans men. After writing this story, I decided to label each section by whose point of view it is from, just as a heads up, because Terse Dolence is a PIECE OF SHIT, and his name is a WARNING in and of itself. Let me be clear, he does not believe it is possible to be transgender, and he feels that it is alright to punish people who have transitioned. I just, I need to be clear about how fucking horrible he is. He uses deadnames, he uses the wrong gender pronouns, and he fantasizes about raping Leon... often. He ATTEMPTS to rape Leon toward the end of this story (chapters from now), but is largely unsuccessful. He is, himself, a rapist, however, and he does think about raping, so I have the Rape warning up just because of him. Alright? Terse Dolence is fucked up. 
> 
> For everyone who has to know now, here it is: Dolence dies in the end.
> 
> THIRD OF ALL: Ada Wong saves the day and no one will ever know because her secrets have secrets. 
> 
> FOURTH OF ALL: Leon is on T, but he has not had top or bottom surgery. He does not wear binders. 
> 
> Please leave comments! Also, please let me know if there are tags I should add or get rid of. Please be careful reading, I do not want anyone to get triggered by this content.

**Terse Dolence**

Republican senator Terse Dolence of West Virginia had plans for the Democrat-majority House of Representatives. Dolence had defunded Planned Parenthood, had stripped Employment and Housing non-discrimination laws, and openly supported conversion therapy.

If anyone were to ask him, he would say – and he had said multiple times in multiple interviews – “I’m not a bad person. I know that there are certain groups who believe I am a bad person. I am here to say that, sometimes, good people have to do bad things for the better good. These – individuals who think they’re… whatever they are – gay, lesbian, transgender – they are misled. They do not know any better! And the more we allow their behavior, the more confused they become, the more they think that their behavior is _correct_. This kind of behavior can only hurt them in the end and hurt all of us as Americans. I assure you, I have everyone’s best interests in mind, even if they do not believe me.”

Dolence had repeated this speech a total of seven times since he first began working for the American government in State court, word for word, more than ten years ago. As the times changed and the people who he called “confused” and “misled” became louder and more aggressive, the closer he came to losing his position to his Democratic opponents at the end of his first six-year term as senator.

Dolence knew he was out the door. He wasn’t even popular enough in the Red states to consider running for presidency in the next term, which denied him that dream, but he had come too far and done too much to lose his seat of power.

There were those confused women showing up to protest his meetings, harassing the staff at his Harrisburg office, claiming that he had sexually assaulted them. Unfounded claims, of course.

After all, he had given them choices and they had chosen to have consensual sexual intercourse with him. Their adverse emotional reactions throughout each experience notwithstanding, they _had_ agreed to have sex with him by the end.

And yet he knew, if he lost his seat, he wouldn’t be able to stop the investigations into those claims. Innocent men got put in prison every once in awhile. He would not like to be one of them.

Dolence kept a sprawling manor in Bridgeport, WV. He had chosen it for its spacious ballroom, knowing that he was always going to have to be sociable if he wanted to climb ladders and rub elbows long before he became senator. His inheritance had covered the costs. About fifteen years ago, he had the wing to the right of the ballroom reconstructed into a home theater with a stage so that guests could also enjoy movies and plays. It had been a smart investment and it been while watching _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ in 2014 that Dolence had secured Lucy Yuveche’s vote, an influential actress born and raised just down the street from his mansion. She had publicly announced her support of him and, being so popular at the time, a number of WV natives had sided with her decision.

Poor girl. Last he heard, she was struggling to get into commercials. How the lives of the famous turned around so fast!

Now it was 2018. The presidential election was to be in 2020 and Dolence’s own term was going to be on the chopping block. Liberals that wanted to put uteruses in men and let women have all the abortions they wanted were going to take WV from him and make his state go desolate feeding every poor bastard that wouldn’t get a job.

It may sound like Dolence was worried. Rest assured, he was not. Senator Terse Dolence had a plan. The midterm elections had just passed and the Democrats were in control of the House of Representatives. The democrats had lost the Senate, but on-year elections might change that. Dolence wasn’t even expecting to have a Republican for a president come 2020.

Democrats may take control of the government, but Dolence was going to take control of the Democrats.

“Pay the man what he is due,” he told his security officer. A briefcase was exchanged for a crate holding a single carefully cushioned capsule containing an otherworldly and genetically engineered creature. Dolence had watched the _Alien_ movies as a younger man and he thought the specimen had a great likeness to a Facehugger. What an incredible thing to try and keep hidden in Spain. Of course, Dolence had learned of the Plaga’s existence after becoming senator and hearing the rumors of the dearly departed former president’s daughter being kidnapped by a cult with brainwashing technology. His interest had instantly been caught.

He never could have imagined that the “technology” he had begun seeking four years ago would be a parasite. One for him to swallow, the Control species Plaga, and the rest for the Democrats, the Recessive species Plaga.

They were to become an extension of himself. His failsafe in government. His… pets.

“It continues to be a pleasure to work with _Los Illuminados_ ,” he told his contact.

He was little more than a boy with half of his face ravaged as if by acid. He nodded back to Dolence and his officer solemnly and said nothing as he took the briefcase of money and fake identities into his thin arms. Clearly not the talkative sort, the boy turned and walked away. Dolence nodded to his officer so that Greury would know to follow the boy out.

He did not want any member of _Los Illuminados_ to get bold here in what had once been his underground garage. As his search for _Los Plagas_ had gotten more and more obsessive, he had managed to scrounge up neat little souvenirs during his adventures. He had had titanium walls with sound-proof material constructed, separating the spacious garage into three sections. In the farthest left and the farthest right section, he had installed Hammerglass® containment cubes each 1,000 ft3. The middle section he kept clear for his vehicles. After all, it was _still_ a garage.

The construction crew who had built this house of wonders believed he was in the habit of collecting rare and endangered animals. They were not too far off, he supposed.

He had a Tibetan mastiff and Newfoundland on the right section as well as a pack of five grey wolves. Out of curiosity, he had taken the initial Cerberus he had acquired and tested to see what other animals it could infect. His conclusion was that canines could infect canines and humans, but not other mammals. He had been disappointed by this discovery after having set his Cerberus hound on a tiger, only to lose both. Nonetheless, he was carefully selecting the largest dog breeds he could find to add to his collection, turning the soulful, loving eyes of Saint Bernard’s and Irish Wolfhounds into the milky white glare of a killing machine. The zombie dogs and the zombie wolves often snared at one another through the transparent walls of their cells.

On the left side, he kept four Licker β’s and Harriet Kint. Kint had not been willing to take Dolence’s generous monetary offer in exchange for no longer spreading her awful rumor that Dolence had raped her, and so Dolence had tested his black market-acquired C-virus gas on her. The result was large and grotesque, what Dolence had learned was called a Whopper in the bioterrorism community. At least Kint was not talking anymore.

He was also the proud owner of a very early model Tyrant. If he had to guess, he would say it had to be a pre-2000 series given its relatively small stature compared to the video footage of Tyrants he had seen in Eastern Slav Republic some years ago and its grotesque features.

Dolence indeed had a very impressive collection. With the Plaga engineered by _Los Illuminados_ , straight from the mountains of Spain where the locals had tried to keep them at bay, he finally felt at peace.

At last, Dolence was safe.

Oh, except, there was one problem…

Not the BSAA. They were under such restrictions that, even though their main base of operations was in New York, NY, they rarely could operate within the States. The Arias dilemma had been an exception in which the president had all but been forced to grant the BSAA special permission to react to the bioterroristic attack. Dolence had no plan of being so grandiose. The BSAA would never have grounds to intervene. TerraSave was even less of an issue as they gave aid after the fact and almost never preemptively. Again, no one was going to know what Dolence had done until after he had already done it.

The Division of Security Operations was where he foresaw an issue. More specifically, he foresaw Leon Scott Kennedy being an issue. The agent was too close to the situation and too knowledgeable about every pet Dolence had accumulated as senator. He was a threat to Dolence’s plans. He could hope that Leon would soon die on a mission but was not willing to put all his work at risk just to wait and see.

If he were to liken this to chess, he would say that Leon was a queen. He could move in any direction as many spaces as he wished. Dolence himself, a simple king, had knights and bishops and pawns galore. So many pawns…

He had to get Leon off the board. His death would be preferable, but then the DSO would simply hire someone else and Dolence was aware that there were BSAA agents that would happily fill that position. He would rather deal with the threat that he knew than welcome a threat he was unfamiliar with.

A distraction, Dolence decided. He would only need Leon gone for a few days, just long enough for him to infect even a quarter of the majority of the House of Representatives. By the time Leon came back, nothing would seem out of the ordinary. The Democratic party would surely be making some out-of-character decisions, but that did not have to be because of a little old parasite – not as far as anyone had to be concerned.

After he infected only a small portion of the majority, he would be able to cast out his net and gradually bring other flies into his parlor over time, using his first catch of democrats as bait. He was not concerned of infecting one or two democrats at a time catching anyone’s attention.

He simply needed Leon to be somewhere else and otherwise distracted to miss that first initial wave of infection that would give Dolence a head start on the majority.

Well, if he wanted a good distraction, he was going to have to get to know Leon a little better, wasn’t he?

He noticed that Greury had returned to his side, a faithful pet. “I want surveillance on Leon Scott Kennedy,” he told the officer. “I want to know what he loves and hates most in this world. I want to know how to make and break him. I want to know his family history and what he is attracted to in women. Actually – find out if he is in a relationship.” Love had distracted many good and wise men. Leon would be no different.

“Got it, sir.” Greury nodded and left him once more, off to relay the message to the rest of his team and to get into contact with several tech geeks that would be able to look into any private documents and phone data.

Dolence decided to let them have their time. He was still senator for a minimum of two more years. He had at least a blink of an eye before Leon became a pertinent concern.

~::~

Two weeks later, Dolence was solemnly handed a file by Greury.

As it turned out, Leon Scott Kennedy had not been born a Leon.

“The agent is a woman?” he asked incredulously, scowlling at a photograph taken while Kennedy had been in the Police Academy. “Oh, look at that,” he cooed. “She was beautiful. She truly has ruined herself.” He flipped through a few more pages. “She has a boyfriend? Why would she go to such lengths to look like a man and then bend over for another man? Such a confused, young lady.” He skimmed her history until he came to the event of the agent saving the former president’s daughter.

His thumb brushed over the agent’s headshot from 2005. She had looked a great deal like Kint when she was younger. She must have just started hormone therapy.

Dolence flipped forward once more. There were text histories printed out between the agent and… and an Eastern Slav Republic native by the name of Alexander Kozachenko. A number of the texts were innocent, even romantic.

Others were downright filthy.

Kennedy may play at being a man, but it became clear to Dolence that she liked having her cunt fucked like a cheap whore.

Dolence shifted in his seat, his pants tighter than usual.

Who would have thought that the DSO’s golden _boy_ was a traitorous slut spreading her legs for a Russian?

He licked his lips. She had a face that he liked… He had always liked that face.

What would she look like if her beloved boyfriend held her down and fucked that pussy as she begged for him to stop? As she was used as nothing other than a toy, would she cry? Would she lose the will to fight against someone she cared for and just take it?

Would she enjoy it?

The confused women Dolence had had sex with had been like that. Eventually, they always chose to enjoy themselves, eyes closing in bliss, tears of joy on their cheeks, their hands limp against the bed as their bodies strained with pleasure.

He imagined Kennedy beneath him, her proud features twisted in agonized glee as she rode his cock with experience, her hazel eyes cloudy with need. Dolence had photographic evidence that she still had breasts and he thought of his teeth leaving dark bruises on them.

Dolence flipped the folder shut with a sharp snap of his wrist, breathing hard.

“I know what we’re going to do,” he choked, and then cleared his throat. “Get me an independent contractor. Bring me Alexander Kozachenko. I want him to be my pet. He is going to break her for us.”

Alexander Kozachenko lived half a world away. The flight to and from there alone was almost two days on a commercial flight. With the distraction Alexander would provide, the agent was not going to be a concern at all while Dolence put his own plans into action.

The man was about to be the first to receive a Recessive Plaga species. Dolence planned exactly what he was going to command Kozachenko to do before he sent him back to the Eastern Slav Republic, the agent none the wiser. Dolence’s skin felt tight and hot. He was excited as he imagined Kozachenko holding the agent down and fucking that pussy until it _tore_ and _bled_ –

“Have you read the entirety of the document?” Greury checked in with him.

“Hm? No. No, I have not. This is impeccable research all the same, a very good job.”

Greury frowned but did not dare mention anything.

However, the security officer was not sure that Dolence had read the part about Kozachenko being paraplegic.

~::~

**Ada Wong**

Ada Wong arrived at Dolence’s sprawling mansion in October of 2019. She knew the full layout of the property before she stepped foot on the wraparound veranda, knew the type of man she was going to be talking to before ever meeting Terse Dolence face-to-face. She had chosen an elegant evening gown to wear, playing up her femininity. She had no desire to get intimate with Dolence and utilizing her “womanly wiles” was the best course of action in this case.

Dolence had a habit of getting in trouble with men – specifically transgender men. Ada had exactly one idea of where George Kint had disappeared to after his allegations that Dolence had assaulted him and she only needed the one idea because she knew she was right – and getting away with it. The man was a transphobic rapist and the two aspects were directly correlated.

Her evening gown cut a sharp V in the front and back, the back going as low as just above her buttocks and the front well-below her breasts.

Dolence would want nothing to do with her.

Ada was not necessarily a good person, admittedly. She also did not see herself as a bad person. She simply did what she had to do to maintain her way of life, a philosophy she had taken up as a small girl. She had learned at a young age to be self-proficient and to depend on no one.

She would not even call herself loyal or trustworthy, given that the only person she was loyal to was herself. Ada Wong was whatever she had to be to get what she wanted.

When Dolence’s staff called her with an offer of two million dollars to retrieve a person and then put them right back where she got them, she had decided that she wanted that money. She was essentially being paid to be transportation.

A large man who she knew to be Joseph Greury welcomed her at the door. His eyes trailed over her appreciatively, his hand landed low on her back as he led her through the mansion into the underground garage.

There were titanium walls on either side, several expensive cars parked toward the middle and back of the center of the garage, and a sitting area provided almost immediately after they entered the garage. The sitting area included a fully stocked bar, two leather chairs, and a low coffee table. The small lounge was carpeted with a Persian rug while the rest of the visible garage was concrete.

In one of the chairs was Senator Terse Dolence. He watched her enter with a fatherly sort of smile, automatically giving her a once-over that anyone would have done to a newcomer. After he ascertained for himself that she was who he was expecting, his eyes returned to hers and did not stray to the ample flesh revealed by her dress. This was a marked difference from Greury, who kept his hand nearly on her buttocks, his eyes flickering from his boss to her breasts.

Ada smiled sweetly at him and took the chair opposite of Dolence, effectively removing herself from the guard’s touch.

The dress had been meant to assure herself of Dolence’s disinterest. Not to invite his pet to grope.

Senator Dolence was an elderly white man, wrinkled and with snowy hair. He was tall, thin as a rail, and had bright blue eyes that would have been attractive on a younger and less repugnant individual.

“Ada Wong, I presume.”

“You would be correct,” she offered lightly. “I’ve been told you would like me to retrieve someone for you?”

He held up a photo between two fingers, the white back facing her. With a flourish, he flopped it on the coffee table faceup and slid it toward her.

The face of Alexander Kozachenko stared up at her, a headshot from his time as a Freedom Fighter.

Ada’s expression gave away nothing. She was both pleasant and emotionless as she glanced at the photo and then at Dolence.

Inwardly, she was coming up with contingency plans.

She and Leon Scott Kennedy had been on strained terms since Simmons and his genetic clone of her three years ago. Nonetheless, she considered him someone who was… good. For all that there was good left in the world, she supposed. She had always kept an eye on him and had been aware within two weeks of when he began dating the Russian. Leon and Alexander had never lost contact after the Eastern Slav Republic civil war, and yet their relationship had taken a sudden and deep turn in 2016. Perhaps Leon had gotten over his feelings for Ada, perhaps he had been lonely, or maybe he had simply been seeking comfort – whatever had triggered the relationship to begin was unimportant at this time. What was important was that Alexander Kozachenko was the second most important person in Leon’s life, right after Sherry Birkin and right before Claire Redfield.

Ada Wong was an intelligent woman. Enough so to know that bringing Alexander to Dolence would be to betray Leon, and Leon had been a key factor in her survival more than once for two decades now.

Her decision was made before Dolence even opened his mouth to explain.

Alexander could never fall into Dolence’s hands.

Politely, she listened, nonetheless.

“This is Alexander Kozachenko,” Dolence told her. She tilted her head as if curious. “He is a Russian spy that has infiltrated our Division of Security Operations.” Ada’s attention sharpened even further.

Leon worked for the DSO.

“I considered taking care of him quietly,” Dolence told her in a secretive whisper. He leaned forward in his chair, still never glancing down at her cleavage even as she mirrored him. “However, I feel that he may best serve America alive.”

“It sounds like you want me to bring him to the States so that you can torture him,” Ada surmised.

“Torture? Please, Miss Wong, I do not want to torture him. I have come across some technology that will allow me to control his actions. I plan to use this technology to install subconscious commands for him to follow at a later time to best benefit our great nation.”

“This sounds like revolutionary technology. I am curious – is it a microchip?”

Dolence chuckled. “No. No, not a microchip. Greury, if you would please?”

The guard had been staring without blinking at her breasts. At his name, he snapped smartly to attention and then walked to the right titanium wall. From his pocket, he pulled out a door handle, installed it into a section of the wall that appeared random, and then inserted a key into the handle. As he inserted it, a metal sheet to the left of the handle slid up and revealed a screen. He typed in a passcode and, at last, a door was unlocked. The door was at least six inches thick as he pulled it open, Ada noted.

She watched this entire process from the corner of her eye, aware of Dolence’s attention focused solely on her and how much she was observing.

Greury entered the closed-off section of the garage and then came back a moment later with a transparent capsule. He repeated every step he had taken previously in reverse – the passcode, the key, and then taking off the handle and tucking it in his pocket.

At last, Ada allowed herself to glance directly at the guard and what he was carrying.

Outwardly, she did not allow her expression to change.

With displeasure, however, she realized she was going to have to flirt with Greury and perhaps sleep with him. Whatever had to be done in order to get the door handle and the key without raising alarm.

In the capsule was a Plaga species Type 1. The symbol ω had been inscribed on it, likely meaning that it was the Recessive species Plaga.

“Does this look like a microchip to you, Miss Wong?” Dolence asked teasingly.

In this moment, she had to determine how much she revealed of herself. If she proved to be too knowledgeable of what Dolence was dealing with, the senator may consider her a threat to himself and react accordingly. If she acted as if she knew nothing, then she could miss the opportunity to learn more about Dolence’s future plans.

“It does not resemble any microchip I have seen, no,” she answered just as lightly. She allowed herself to broadcast some discomfort in the presence of something that was hideous and alien to her.

She simply pretended that the Plaga was Greury, who had come to stand very close to her. The Plaga was quite literally under her nose.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It is a parasite,” he said. “Which is more than you need to know.” There was a threat in those words.

He believed he was in a position to threaten her.

That was cute.

She had bigger problems now, though, and so allowed herself to be cowed. She only glanced to the side, as if nervous, and that single gesture made Dolence relax.

“Please, Greury, give the woman some space. I doubt she wants that creature in her face.”

At last, the guard stepped away.

“Senator Dolence,” she addressed respectfully, “You will have Kozachenko in four days.” Ada allowed herself to glance up at Greury through her lashes, bottom lip just slipping by her teeth. Her eyes flicked back to Dolence as quickly as she met eyes with the guard. “I hope that is acceptable?”

“I have time,” Dolence agreed amicably. “You can have him here in two months if you think can be discrete about it.”

“That much time is not necessary,” she assured him. “Although I thank you for your generosity.”

Alexander Kozachenko was going to meet Dolence. Why Dolence wanted him specifically was beyond Ada at that moment, but she believed it likely had something to do with Leon given Dolence’s mention of the DSO.

Ada did not want this. If she thought she would have been successful, she would have convinced Dolence to let her infect Alexander herself so that Alexander never entered the States. Such a suggestion would not work, however, given that Dolence was using the Plagas. Dolence would need to have Alexander physically present in order to issue commands. However, she was dubious that he would be successful even if they were in the same room. _Los Illuminados_ had managed to control _Las Plagas_ with sound waves of a sort, not necessarily verbal commands. Perhaps Dolence did not fully understand what he was dealing with? That made him all the more dangerous.

She decided that the situation was not irreparable. There was another solution. Dolence planned to infect Alexander with a Recessive species Plaga.

The simplest way to make sure Dolence failed was to infect Alexander with something else first, something that would kill the Recessive Plaga.

Say for instance, a Control Plaga?

It would be just like old times for the ex-Freedom Fighter, except even better as the Type 1 Plaga was not defective like the Type four Alexander had infected himself with during the civil war. Alexander would be able to keep his sanity and not have to worry about the Plaga taking him over, although the Plaga might still be damaging for his tan complexion.

Her only dilemma was getting a Control Plaga.

Her answer was Greury and the time Dolence was so graciously giving her to complete her mission.

Greury led her to the front door. Before she exited, she let her hands wander, the illusion of interest…

~::~

The good news was that Greury was a very generously proportioned man and very happy to please her.

Other good news included Dolence not having video surveillance in his home. It was likely that he did not want footage of his illegal actions.

Even better news was that Greury went to sleep easily after sex without her having to drug him. 

The best news was that she easily located the Control Plaga eggs and managed to gather one from its containment cube. She slipped the capsuled egg into her purse and then returned to Greury’s private room. She replaced his items exactly where she had taken them from – the door handle and the key – and stripped out of her clothing before curling back into bed with him. She feigned sleep until he woke up in the early morning. He carefully shook her “awake” and told her that she should leave.

She thanked him for the good time as she got dressed, allowing him his last show.

She had no plan of ever touching him again unless it was to kill him.

Leaving the mansion, Ada considered the bad news: Dolence had a very dangerous collection of monsters.

~::~

**Alexander Kozachenko**

It was October of 2019 and Alexander Kozachenko was wheeling himself home after class. Leon’s flask hung from one of his chair’s handles and he wore a pendant his American lover had given him of John Baptist de La Salle, the patron saint of teachers.

He was happy. As golden sunlight warmed his hair and a brisk wind chilled his face, he found he was wholesomely content with his life. He was in love, something he thought he would never feel again after losing Irina, and he was a teacher, a calling he had turned away from in order to fight for his country as a rebel.

Last night, Leon had spoiled him with a video call at 3 in the afternoon just after he left the DSO branch. It had been eleven in the evening for Alexander and he had been pleased to fall asleep to the sound of Leon breathing.

It had felt gloriously domestic.

He arrived in his small apartment some time later, having decided to take the long route home and speak to his neighbors as he met them on the street. Children from his class had run up to him excitedly to show off their English skills away from their pupils, eager for his praise. Delighted, he had given praise in spades.

English was a devil language and he had told Leon such many times. His students’ mastery of it was nothing short of a miracle given that even Americans could not differentiate between “your” and “you’re”.

In his apartment, he made a simple dinner for himself and set to work grading assignments. He enjoyed the act of cooking, but not when there was no one to enjoy his meal with him. Leon had been spoiled with many feasts over the years as Alexander had taken advantage of his company to practice and perfect different recipes.

At six in the evening, his phone gave a chirp. He had received a text message from _kotya_ – his affectionate name for his lover.

Leon had groused, once he had learned the meaning, “I’m not a kitten, Sasha.”

“Ah, yes, of course. You are a tiger. A ferocious Siberian tiger,” Alexander had teased in turn. Leon eventually learned that _kotya_ , _kotyonok_ , and _kotic_ all meant “male kitten” and was a common endearment for male spouses in Russia. The female alternative was _kiska_ or _kisa_.

Once Leon realized that Alexander was not insulting him, he had come to enjoy the endearment a great deal.

He now assumed something was wrong if Alexander did not call him _kotya_. And he was often right.

For instance, Alexander had called him “agent” after finding out that Leon had been put on psychiatric leave following the murder of his team five years ago and had chosen to go to _Colorado_ instead of straight to Alexander because he wanted to be lonely and drunk instead of comforted by the man who loved him. And then Leon had the audacity to claim it had been a _vacation_ , not only to Alexander, but to his American friends! As if a psychiatrist had not conducted a formal evaluation of his mental wellbeing and found that he was not fit for duty until further notice! And then, of course, because Alexander was a fool and had fallen in love with agent Leon Scott Kennedy, Leon got dragged into stopping some mad plot to take over New York even though he was not mentally stable.

Alexander had been pissed, not only at Leon, but at this so-called Chris Redfield and Dr. Rebecca Chambers who had dragged his boyfriend into that mess.

Mostly, he had been pissed at Leon. Leon had known the exact moment Alexander _stopped_ being pissed when he was called _kotya_ again almost two full weeks later.

The memory of that conversation, of finding out that Leon did not want to come to him with his troubles because he did not want to be a burden on Alexander, made Alexander sneer at his work. That troublesome man. That bastard. He had worried Alexander so much with that stunt.

He unlocked his phone to check the text.

Leon had sent a suggestive image of his shirt rucked up, revealing one uncovered breast. Alexander did some quick math and realized that it was two in the morning where Leon was right now. He had already taken off his sports bra and was wearing pajamas.

A second message appeared.

_‘Call me?’_

This was a distraction, Alexander belatedly realized. Leon should be asleep, not trying to lure Alexander into a discussion with the promise of phone sex.

He called. “ _Kotya_ ,” he said first. “I love you. Why are you not asleep?”

“Buddy,” Leon replied with exasperation, “When someone sends you a dirty picture, you are supposed to call them and then tell them what you’re wearing.”

“A Santa suit,” Alexander came up with. “With bunny ears and fuzzy purple slippers. Now that that is out of the way – ” Leon gave a remarkably unsexy groan. Alexander could hear him roll over in bed. “Please tell me what is bothering you.”

“I just…”

“ _Kotya_ ,” he purred. “Please, trust me with this.”

There was a deep, shuddering breath.

“I had a nightmare.”

Those were common. Alexander was not surprised that Leon tried to misdirect with the promise of sex instead of discussing this. Leon worried that Alexander would not want him if he understood just how many nightmares Leon had.

More the fool him, Alexander was not letting him go unless Leon himself chose to leave.

“Will you tell me about it?” he asked.

“I’d rather not.”

“I am here for you if you change your mind. Would you like for me to read to you?”

There was a long pause.

Leon loved being read to, something that pleased Alexander on many levels. However, Leon believed that he was too old be read to. Alexander patiently waited to see which side of him would win tonight.

“What are we reading?” Leon asked at last.

Alexander rolled away from his desk and perused his bookshelf. A number of the books had been gifted to him by Leon, others he had collected from rubble. Some he had purchased himself. There were even several that had been gifted to him by the families of his students and by neighbors.

His phone squeezed between his shoulder and ear, he read titles until one sounded appropriate. “I am in the mood for Brian Jacques.”

“ _Redwall_?”

“Yes.”

“… Sounds good.” He could hear Leon shift, pillows and blankets shuffling, before the other man settled down with a long, low sigh.

“Are you ready?” Alexander asked as he wheeled himself back to his desk. He put the phone down and on speaker. He opened _Martin the Warrior_ on the desk.

“I’m ready,” Leon said.

Alexander was only four pages in when he heard Leon begin to quietly snore. He closed his eyes and listened carefully, imagining for a moment that they were in bed together, that Leon slept at Alexander’s side, warm and alive.

Loathe to hang up the phone, he quietly put the book aside and continued grading for another two hours. After that, he continued to read _Martin the Warrior_ to himself for another hour. There would be no school the next day and so he allowed himself to get ready for bed late. He carried Leon with him, planning to fall asleep to the sound of his _kotya_ snoring.

It was closer to 11 at night when Alexander finally ended the call, eyes heavy with drowsiness. At last, Alexander fell asleep.

He woke up two days later in the exact position he had fallen asleep in.

~::~

**Ada Wong**

_While Alexander slept…_

Alexander Kozachenko was peacefully drugged in his sleep and then shipped like cargo back to the United States. Ada delivered him to Dolence’s house in a refrigerator box.

Dolence was… not happy to realize that Kozachenko was paraplegic.

“I had such good plans,” he groused to Ada and Greuler, the man now unable to look at Ada. This was the opposite of the problem they had had the first time they met.

Ada was commanded to wait upstairs. Dolence gave her free access to either his theater or his ballroom to bide her time while Kozachenko was carried away by Greuler toward the basement.

Of course, Ada nodded and gave her thanks.

And, of course, the moment they were not looking, she was following.

There was both an elevator and a staircase that went down to the garage. Without trying to break into the vents, Ada was left with the option of the stairs. She had faced worse odds.

At the bottom step, she crouched down and held herself against the wall. If she left the stairs, she would be visible to Dolence where the sound of his voice came approximately from his lounge area.

Ada could hear the senator speaking. “I am disappointed. And yet, I’m not surprised. It seems obvious to me now that a confused woman like Kennedy would only want a man she could dominate.”

 _Kennedy_. Ada had been right. This did concern Leon.

He sighed regretfully. “Do you think he can even have sex? All of those photos they sent back and forth… Couldn’t just be for aesthetic.”

Greuler replied, “He can. However, he has no control or feeling in his legs.”

“Why does the man she is sleeping with have to be crippled?”

Ada was considering the kind of man Dolence was and why he was so obsessed with Alexander and Leon’s sex life, as well as how a Recessive species Plaga would play into his plans. She felt that this was building into a very problematic situation.

It was fortunate for Leon that she had already injected Alexander with the Control species Plaga egg. In a fight between a Control and a Recessive Plaga, the Control would always win.

“He will have to do,” Dolence finally allowed. “Please, Greuler – the egg.”

Ada heard the faint sound of an injection gun being fired.

“And, now, we wait, I suppose…”

Ada sat down more comfortably on the stairs, reminded of those fluffy Christmas movies were small children tried to hide behind banisters to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. There was, fortunately, a cement wall separating her from view and yet, her position was equally as vulnerable. Should Dolence or Greuler come in her direction, there was no place for her to hide.

She began to craft her ‘I got tired of waiting and came to see how everything was going’ excuse in her head, an ear to the quiet conversation Greuler and Dolence had off and on.

Eventually, the two men moved to the lounge, the clinking of glass bottles denoting that they had poured themselves alcohol. That brought them dangerously close to her position. If they moved even another foot toward the elevator directly in front of her and a straight shot from the lounge, they would catch a glimpse of her.

Carefully, she edged up a few more steps before settling once more.

Hours ticked by with excruciating slowness.

“Do you think it’s been long enough?” Dolence eventually asked.

Ada closed her eyes to ward off his utter stupidity. She knew now better than before that Senator Terse Dolence had no idea what he was involved with. However he had gotten _Las Plagas_ , no one had provided an instruction manual.

“I think so,” Greuler replied. “Either way, we’ll either want to send him off with Wong tonight or send her home now until we’re ready.”

“I believe we are ready. Kozachenko will be sent back home tonight.”

“If you say so.”

Ada thought to herself, _amateurs_.

There was the shuffle of feet that echoed on concrete.

“I am unhappy that the first pet I gift with the Plaga is already broken, but, well… If he’s good enough for Kennedy, he’s good enough for my instructions.”

Given her own plan, those instructions were not going to stick.

And then Dolence began to tell Kozachenko _exactly_ what he wanted the man to do to Leon.

Dolence was a perverse man. His commands for Alexander were more like he was explaining his fantasies to violate Leon himself. Ada counted three times during the half hour-long session where Dolence slipped away from “You will” and said “I will.”

Ada never should have worried about keeping Alexander from Dolence. For all that she had no desire to put her life on the line for someone else, she had a sudden urge to do anything in her power to keep Dolence from Leon instead.

Everything out of the senator’s mouth promised to completely break Leon, body and mind, and reduce him to a shadow of himself.

From Dolence’s long list of things he wanted to do to Leon but was sending Alexander to do instead, Ada learned several other things:

One, Dolence planned to have Leon out of the country for exactly seventy-two hours from December 15th, 2020 to December 18th, 2020. It was during this window of time that Dolence wanted Alexander to keep Leon as a prisoner. To remind Leon “of _her_ place as a _woman_ ”.

Two, Dolence had access to Leon’s phone and was receiving text messages sent between Leon and Alexander. He had alluded to this earlier in his conversation with Greuler, of course, but he now explicitly referenced those photos in detailing his fantasies.

Three, Dolence got a sick sense of pleasure from continuously and purposely misgendering Leon.

Ada had expected this last one, at least. She had seen the plaque labeled _Harriet Kint_ behind the left titanium wall on the containment cube retaining a Whopper. It added insult to injury that Dolence had “allegedly” raped Kint, infected him with a virus that caused him to mutate into a monster, and then continued to use his deadname and the wrong pronouns.

Dolence was now going to use Leon’s own lover to assault and demean him.

Or, at least, Dolence thought he was.

When, at last, Dolence was done, Ada slipped quickly and quietly back upstairs. She was found in the theater, watching the end of _Love, Actually_ when Dolence and Greuler returned Kozachenko to her on a gurney.

Ada returned the man to Eastern Slav Republic. She tucked him in exactly as she had found him, even took some humor in pressing a little kiss to his forehead as if he were a child. She left the way she had come, through his front door, and securely locked it from the outside.

“What did I even think was going to happen?” Ada asked herself as she walked down the street away from Kozachenko’s apartment building.

There was a sense of concern for Leon, given Dolence’s obvious fascination for him. However, in the sense of Dolence commanding Kozachenko to harm Leon? Dolence had shown that he had no idea how to use _Las Plagas_.

He was a future concern, Ada decided. Once he had practiced more and built up a rhythm to infecting others and controlling them, then he would be dangerous.

For now, all he had done was give the Recessive species Plaga egg inside of Alexander an awful bedtime story. Ada had gone through much more effort than she had needed to and she planned to somehow exact payment from Leon in the future for when she had graciously slept with Greuler for his keys.

Or, perhaps not… After all, she had infected his boyfriend with a Control Plaga.

~::~

What Ada Wong failed to realize was the unexpected consequence of putting a Plaga Type 1 parasite in a host that had previously been infected by the defective Plaga Type 4 parasite. The Plaga Type 4 parasite had the issue of mutating out of control, devouring its host from the inside, and then taking over the host’s body. The Plaga Type 1 parasite, specifically the Dominant species, did not have this same drawback although certain mutations had been noted in different individuals.

Remnants of the Plaga Type 4 parasite had been integrated into Alexander’s person before the parasite could complete dissolve out of his system following its death. An unfortunate bout of influenza following his surgery had allowed the flu virus to carry the parasitic DNA throughout Alexander’s body and had become a part of him. Unbridled potential was dormant in his very cells.

Once the Control species Plaga of the Type 1 parasite hatched from its egg, devoured the Recessive species Plaga, and attached to Alexander’s nervous system, the man’s body began to… change. Little by little, Plaga Type 1 magnified the mutagenic properties of the Plaga Type 4 DNA. Alexander slept a drugged sleep as he became a new Bio Organic Weapon.

Ada had no idea she had done this, and she would never really know. However, this would work to not just her benefit, but everyone else’s as well.

~::~

Ada laid Alexander in bed and left. That was when Alexander’s final mutation occurred, without witness or anyone to understand what was happening. From his every pore came a viscous liquid that hardened over his body until the man was entombed in a waxy chrysalis. Within the chrysalis, Alexander was liquified, like a beetle pupa, and then quickly solidified once more. Externally, nothing of him looked different. Internally, Alexander was not the way he had been. He was more.

The cocoon dissolved, leaving his bed damp. His clothes were gone, either destroyed when the cocoon formed or when his body became jelly.

Alexander slept until morning. 


	2. Add An Appropriate Subplot

**Alexander Kozachenko**

Waking up, Alexander felt woozy and _starving_. And yet, also so nauseous that the idea of food made his stomach turn. His clothes were – gone? He also noted that his bed was soaked. He was terrified for a moment that he had had an accident. He had mastered the art of going from bed-to-chair-to-toilet years ago and was, for a moment, horrified. And yet his sheets did not smell of urine. The dampness was closer to scentless, perhaps somewhat salty, and he became concerned that he had suffered a fever instead. He was more prone to sicknesses in this post-Free Fighter life, a result of both the parasite he had willingly hosted and spinal cord damage.

It must have been a very strong fever, he decided as he opened his phone. He had lost his entire weekend! He would have to apologize to his evening adult classes, who he taught English to on Saturdays and Sundays.

He had no memory of feeling ill Friday night, he recalled. He had been perfectly fine. The onset of this fever had to have been remarkably fast.

Despite still feeling slightly ill, he managed to eat a piece of toast with ham on it. Coffee was too strong for his head, so he made himself some ginger tea instead. Thankfully, Leon had not texted him over the weekend, perhaps on a mission. Leon did not contact him every day but was always quick to react excessively if Alexander failed to return a text within a certain amount of time. Leon feared that, if Alexander was not responding to him, then Alexander was either dead or breaking up with him.

Perhaps this was not healthy, but the worst that had ever happened was Leon arriving at his apartment at four in the morning with a box of chocolate and a SIG Sauer firearm – the first in case Alexander was angry and the second in case he was in danger.

Sasha had been touched by the sentiment and had thankfully accepted the chocolate before bullying the exhausted and anxious man into his bed for eighteen straight hours of rest.

So, yes, it was good that Leon had not texted over the weekend. Alexander knew there was no way he could say, “I believe I suffered a massive fever and have no memory of the past two days” and not have Leon fly over the ocean and crash through his door to check on him.

He searched around his bed for the pajamas he must have kicked off when he had had his fever and yet could… only find scraps. Had he quite literally _torn_ his clothing off? The edges looked more melted than ragged, he thought. That made no sense.

With a sneer, he threw out the ruined remains of his pajamas. What a fever it must have been.

Having eaten while naked and gross, he decided his next action was to take a shower. After that, he would put on fresh clothes, wipe down his chair, and do his laundry.

Absentmindedly, he scratched an itch on his right knee.

His right big toe twitched.

Alexander’s breath caught in his throat.

That… That was not possible.

~::~

His legs _burned_ as he rolled himself the school the next day. He had gone from having no sensation in them for seven years to feeling every nerve ending firing off at the same time. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, forehead dotted with sweat.

He had almost called Leon when he had first realized that _something_ was happening with his legs. A miracle? Physical therapy had finally paid off? The fever had somehow corrected the damage to his spinal cord? He had no idea.

And then, the pain began. Slowly, it bloomed into a forest fire of heat and agony and he spent all last night thrashing in his bed, wishing his damned legs would just fall off and wither away. Despite that initial toe twitch, no amount of concentration or effort had made his legs move again. It was all only sensation now, and such a sensation that Alexander would have been content to never feel his legs again in order to avoid more of this.

He attempted to keep a brave face during his class periods, but his students were especially grumpy this Monday and inattentive. The pain in his legs built as a migraine in his skull, throbbing in his temples and kicking at the back of his eyes. He snapped at his misbehaving children more than he ever had in the past and they eventually fell silent and obedient out of fear and sadness, such expressions on their faces that he felt like a monster and gave them the rest of the class to read their favorite books and speak with their friends.

By a force of will he had earned as a Freedom Fighter, he managed to survive the school day. Going home was a new nightmare, the sun stabbing into his eyes and the cold wind feeling like waves of nausea washing over him. A neighbor saw his struggles and offered to push him home as he looked very sick. Too tired and worn out to be proud, Alexander thanked his neighbor and focused on breathing through the pain. His neighbor reluctantly left him at his front door at Alexander’s behest and he managed to fumble his way inside.

An awful day. A torturous day. Why hadn’t Leon killed him all those years ago? If Leon had, Alexander would not be alive to suffer like this.

He did not have the energy to lift himself into his bed. Instead, he made an effort to crawl from his chair to his musty blankets – he had never gotten around to cleaning them after the pain started yesterday. The dampness and dirtiness of the sheets only worsened his mood – and whined pitifully as he sprawled gracelessly over his mattress.

The pain was too much for him to find sleep and so his suffering did not end. Distantly, his phone went off, but there was nothing Alexander could do about it as his vision swam with darkness without him ever completely losing consciousness.

Suddenly, the pain was _sharp_ and _boiling_ , more intense that it had ever been, and his mouth opened on a scream that echoed in his smoldering lungs but did not escape his choked throat, teeth snapping down on his tongue as his body seized –

It felt like he was being _torn apart_ –

God, what had he done to deserve this –

A sound rose from the very depths of his belly, rumbling under his ribs and setting his heart into a rabbit-fast pace, vibrating in his throat, and when it left his mouth, it was inhuman and beastly. It was a _roar_ of an apex predator stuck in a bear trap, it was the thunderous rage of a monster who had been caught in a flimsy cage –

And then…

And then it was over.

His body fell back against his blankets, having curved like a bridge straight off the mattress. The burning had stopped. The migraine had stopped. He laid there for minutes, afraid to move, and yet there was no longer any pain.

Carefully, he shuffled his legs off the bed and then hesitantly sat up.

He wiggled his toes.

Alexander broke down _sobbing_ , arms around his stomach.

He would have rather never walked again than experience that inescapable torture.

~::~

Alexander managed to text Leon back within an acceptable amount of time to stop the older man from panicking. It was strange to hide so much from Leon. However, Alexander had no understanding of why this was happening, or why it was happening _now_. He was weary of Leon’s hypotheses on the matter. A part of him knew that Leon would want blood tests, would want X-rays, would want Alexander hospitalized until doctors and surgeons knew him at the atomic level and upward to understand what was going on. Leon had seen too many friends and enemies both be mutated by manmade viruses and parasites to accept that Alexander had either been cursed or blessed with the ability to feel his legs once more.

Leon would want a concrete answer backed by science.

The truth of the matter was that Alexander did not want to know. He should want to know, shouldn’t he? It had been seven years since his Control species Plaga Type 4 had been killed by the DSO agent and yet he was thinking now that it had only been injured and biding its time. Once it had repaired its own damage, it must have sought to fix the damage to its host.

Alexander flexed and unflexed his feet, bent and unbent his knees, opened and closed his thighs.

How long did Alexander have left before he lost his sanity? Before the Plaga took over and he became a monster?

Tears glittered in his eyes, a single one trickling down his cheek.

What a price to pay. He had his legs back, but how long would he be able to enjoy them for? What a joy, he thought bitterly, that he could now _chase_ his victims down. How fortunate that he could walk and run just in time to kill or infect everyone he cared about.

Alexander closed his eyes. No. No, he had to call Leon. They had to deal with this. Leon had at least injured the Plaga seven years ago and that had brought Alexander seven years of peace and prosperity. If Leon were to shoot him again, he would lose his legs once more and perhaps get to enjoy almost another decade of love and happiness.

Yes, he should do that. Except…

Except he felt fine. After that horrible experience with agony the likes of which should be reserved for the deepest depths of hell, he could not help but think that he felt healthier than he ever had. His sinuses were clear, he was fully alert and aware of his surroundings, his vision was perfect, and he could hear his neighbors well through the thin walls of his apartment when he had not been able to before. His body did not ache and moving his legs after seven years of inactivity was overly easy, as if he had only walked yesterday.

He had not coughed up blood or felt the clawing pain of a parasite eating him alive from the inside.

Perhaps… Perhaps he would invite Leon over. Wasn’t his lover due for a vacation soon? He would keep recent events to himself and… and wait and see if anything happened. If he showed symptoms like what he had during the civil war, then he would tell Leon everything and the DSO agent would take care of him, just as he had a lifetime ago. If Alexander turned out to be fine… If, perhaps, he had somehow been able to benefit from the parasite, whether it was dead or alive, and suffer none of the drawbacks, then… Then everything should be fine.

He sneered at his reflection, braced over the sink in his tiny bathroom. That was the coward’s way out, to avoid what could be a very big issue. What if the parasite took over once Leon was gone and then Alexander killed his entire apartment complex? What if the parasite took over while Leon slept next to him, trusting and unprotected? Would Alexander so selfishly endanger everyone he cared about just so he could have his legs and whatever was left of his life too?

He could not be so greedy.

Alexander padded into his kitchen. All of his food and utensils had been moved to lower shelves a very long time ago to accommodate for his height in the wheelchair. Leon had gifted him with several Grabbers over their friendship – before they had become lovers – but Alexander only ever dared to put light, unbreakable things on the higher shelves for fear of dropping them with the stick.

He made himself a small dinner and then simply stared at it. Loathe to sit down, he remained standing at his kitchen table with hands planted on either side of his plate.

He was going to die. Worse than that, the parasite inside of him would take over his body and use him to commit horrible deeds.

With a yell of rage and despair, Alexander swung his arm in an arc and the plate was launched from the table straight at a wall. It shattered on impact, pelmeni spattered and sticking to the cream-colored surface.

Panting, wheezing, _whining_ as his life spun out of control around him, Alexander collapsed to his knees and folded in on himself. He hugged himself as he pressed his forehead to the cold tiled floor and cried over everything he was going to lose.

And he was thinking of bringring Leon into this? He truly intended to bring his lover into his home, tell Leon to shoot him again because the parasite was back, implying the Leon had failed to kill it the first time? Of course, Alexander would never say Leon had _failed_ – he simply knew Leon well enough to realize that that would be what Leon believed.

They had checked so thoroughly, though! Leon had pulled strings to have specialists inspect the damage to his body and they had concluded that the parasite was dead and his body would dispel of it in time. They had been relieved to know that they did not have to remove the entirety of the parasite as they had operated on his spine due to how much more damage that would have caused; it had been wound tightly around his spinal cord and taking it out would have been the end of Alexander’s life. They had marveled at its unique properties. After all, if such a large, dead foreign body had been present in any other situation, it would have had to be removed or else cause him immeasurable issues.

The medical impossibilities of the parasite, they had discussed in awe and terror.

Alexander had given permission for them to remove a section of the parasite – given that it did not injure him further for them to do so – for their own personal research. Leon had added a mountain of paperwork to Alexander’s consent form, most of them addressing the amount of fines and jail time the surgeons would acquire if they tried to weaponize or otherwise use the parasite for their own gain.

The short of it was that seven different people had all but had their hands around Alexander’s spine and all of them had concluded that the Plaga was _dead_.

If that were true, though, then what the hell was happening to him?

~::~

Reluctantly, Alexander sent Leon a text.

_‘When is your next vacation? I miss you. Please come see me as soon as you can.’_

Leon responded in two hours, _‘Is everything alright? Flight leaves at 6:18 PM. ETT twenty hours. ETA 10 PM EET.’_

Alexander only had to wait a day.

Would he make it that long?

It was unfair that he felt perfectly fine; he felt hope that everything would be alright.

~::~

In the time between Leon securing a flight and actually arriving, Alexander made a startling discovery.

There was the slightest possibility that everything would turn out alright.

~::~

The realization began when he was picking up the mess he had made of dinner. A shard of the plate slid sharply against his skin and yet did not cut him. Numb and distracted, he continued to fumble the porcelain and only realized after stepping on another shard that everything continued to not hurt.

Alexander had no desire to hurt himself. The knowledge that he might have to be hurt or killed to save his loved ones left him crying on and off throughout the day and night, unable to even go to work lest he change suddenly and attack his children. No, Alexander did not _want_ pain nor death.

Therefore, it was not a desire to cause himself pain that had him drawing out a steak knife and dragging it cautiously over his inner forearm, but a need to know if he could be injured.

The blade slid harmlessly over his skin. He pressed harder and harder and the knife could only leave an indent of its blade that faded away almost instantly. Curious, he feathered his thumb over the flesh. It felt no different than usual, he supposed. He still felt human to the touch.

Wielding the knife, he clenched the handle in his fist and slammed the tip of the blade straight toward his thigh.

He felt a brief flash of pain as the very tip of the blade managed to embed itself in his skin, and then the blade snapped free of the handle as the tension built and had nowhere to go.

This was going to make shooting him in the back a little harder, he decided.

The blade had not even drawn blood, the cut was so shallow. The most damage had been done to his jeans, which now had a small tear in them.

He drank a glass of milk as he considered his body’s strangely tough skin.

Still, there was no pain. Still, his mind was his own.

He returned to the bathroom mirror and found that his eyes were not red-rimmed, that his veins were not protruding, that he was not pale white. He was healthy.

He slowly ate some goat cheese with sushki. He enjoyed the sour, creamy cheese with the mildly sweet bread rings and a cup of lemon tea.

What else did he not know about himself?

What was he capable of?

Could he control the Licker β species again? That was impossible to test without the monster present, so he had no way of knowing.

He considered the hero movies his students gushed about. Super-strength, super-intelligence, flying, heat vision, accelerated healing…

He thought intently at himself, _‘Fly.’_

He did not fly. However Superman did it, Alexander did not know his tricks. That was fine, Alexander was not a fan of heights.

He suspected that he did not have super-strength. That seemed like something he would have noticed sooner, possibly by breaking many of his possessions. He decided to check just to be sure.

He put his hands under his bed and tried to see how hard it was to lift it. It was a double bed and only a few years old as he and Leon had invested in it after they became intimate. Alexander did not move much in his sleep these days and found too much bed space to be a hindrance to getting in and out of his chair quickly.

He was not expecting the bed to be heavy to begin with, and he was right, but it certainly had some heft to it. Alexander decided that he would not be throwing vehicles anytime soon.

It did not seem that Alexander had become an Avenger, he concluded. That was all the better. Captain America seemed particularly sad and lonely and Iron Man had died after defeating a particularly selfish grape alien.

Alexander had always preferred Nightcrawler from the X-Men anyway. Sadly, Alexander could not teleport in puffs of smoke.

He stared hard at his cup of tea, willing it to float to his hand as if he had telekinesis like Jean Grey.

If he had superpowers, they were turning out to be the unexciting kind that would not get him a main part in an American film anytime soon.

As he thought this sarcastically to himself, he realized that he hadn’t cried in almost an hour. He had completely distracted himself from thinking of his impending doom and, in that hour, nothing had changed.

He was still alive and well, showing no signs of a Plaga Type 4 infection.

Well, if the Plaga had been in him for seven years, it may be another seven before it actually took him over.

Alexander walked over to his tea and picked it up himself – fuck you, non-existent telekinesis – sipping at lukewarm liquid.

He asked himself, could he be happy with his legs and seven more years of happiness?

The mug suffered the same fate as his dinner, shattering on his abused kitchen wall.

“NO!” he wailed. “No, I was – I was supposed to have more time… I need so much more time…”

He gave into crying once more.

This cycle of acceptance, anger, and sorrow continued until morning. Unable to think of an excuse not to go to work without admitting that he may or may not harbor a dangerous parasite, and terrified that he would never see his children again, he chose to go to school in the morning. After a moment of speculation, he left his chair behind.

He was still late for school, neighbors stopping him to gush about his miracle, to laugh and cry as if God was good and Alexander had been blessed for being a good man. Some asked if his American sugar daddy had paid for some revolutionary surgery – which, considering the gifts Leon gave him on his government salary, was actually an apt description for him – or if physical therapy had at last gotten his legs moving again.

No one guessed that Alexander may have a genetically engineered monster in his body and he appreciated that. As he did not know for certain how he was walking himself, he chose to say, “It is a secret, I am sorry I cannot tell you.” In this way, everyone believed they were right. He had been healed by God, by angels, by surgeons, by yoga, by whatever they thought up.

He had an elderly woman, Ingrid, guess that gay sex with his American lover had healed him. He carried that hypothesis around with him for the rest of the day, that sex with Leon had performed a physical miracle, and it did make him a little less upset.

Leon would find that funny, although Alexander saw some truth in it. Sex with Leon did often feel wonderous.

By the time he walked into class, his students went raving _mad_ at seeing him on his own feet. Nothing was taught the entire day because his children could not focus beyond how tall he was.

As exhausted as he was by every person who even vaguely knew him stopping to talk about the use of his legs, he found he was glad he had decided to venture outside. His children were dear to him, he loved his job, and the sun was glowing gold in the sky. His neighbors were only full of cheer for him and he was given a loaf of black bread from a kindly gentleman who lived a few doors down from him.

And still, he felt fine.

He made himself a sandwich with the black bread as a light lunch, having not had the chance to eat during school. Every few minutes, someone knocked at the door to drop off more gifts. There were flowers from children, homemade meals from friends, and a throw blanket from his landlord. Each gift brought tears to his eyes and he thanked everyone who stopped by profusely. A student brought him a hard candy and her little sister kept poking his knee. “Can you feel this?” she kept asking. “Can you feel this?”

Chuckling, he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a light squeeze. Holding her inspired no feelings of aggression, of hunger, of a need to infect. He was alright. For now, at least, Alexander Kozachenko was alright.

“Can you feel this?” he teased, tickling her sides. She squealed and wiggled in his arms. “Can you feel this?”

Eventually, he relinquished her back to her big sister and bade them farewell and a safe trip home.

Yes, he allowed himself to believe. For today, at least, he was not going to turn into a monster. Perhaps for years, he would continue to be a man, a teacher, a lover. After that? He could not see into the future.

Leon would be there in a few hours.

Whatever future Alexander had, he simply wanted his lover to be a part of it.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

Leon Scott Kennedy had done overtime at the DSO branch to catch up on paperwork and field questions following a very minor incident where he had put another agent in a chokehold. In his defense, the agent had thought it would be funny to stumble up to Leon and groan like the undead while her friends had hidden out of sight and recorded the entire scene.

Because Leon had acted in self-defense against a perceived threat, he did not get reprimanded. He was, however, even less popular with his peers now than ever before, and that was a truly remarkable feat considering that most of them were already terrified of him. People often mocked what they could not understand and none of them knew how to address him being trans as well as him being a survivor of multiple bioterrorist attacks. Although the DSO had been created specifically as an anti-bioterrorism organization, his colleagues were generally deployed more as bodyguards or investigators, and lucky ones at that who rarely ever encountered danger themselves. The most action the DSO had seen was years ago when Leon’s last team had been murdered right before he had to deal with Arias. Leon recalled being sent alone into the morgue to make certain that none of his deceased colleagues would reanimate.

Yeah, he worked with assholes. Imagine that.

He was considered the danger magnet in the DSO. He couldn’t go to the grocery store without getting attacked by zombies, he had heard another agent say. There had only been a handful of large-scale bioterroristic attacks in the world within the last two decades and Leon had somehow gotten involved in most of them. Yeah, he was really an unfortunate bastard.

If he hadn’t been blackmailed into working for the government a lifetime ago, he would have switched over to the BSAA. At least Chris and his friends treated him like a human being instead of an infectious oddity.

This was why he preferred field work – it got him away from his coworkers.

He had been on his way out of the office when he got Alexander’s text. A part of him had wanted to call Alexander and hear his voice, but Leon was so frustrated after his day that he decided to only message for now. The flight over to Eastern Slav Republic would give him time to cool down, he reasoned with himself. Once he got to Alexander’s apartment, he would be able to focus on his lover’s needs and push aside the shitty day he had had.

It seemed that Alexander was upset about something, and yet Leon was not mentally ready to ask what it could be.

On the flight over, he was unable to sleep. He was surrounded by strangers and that made it very difficult for him to relax. He stared out his window, both glad and anxious to be in a seat against the wall. His seat mate was a dainty little woman who kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and blushing. She would be easy to jump over if he had to get into the aisle quickly, he decided. That knowledge made him slightly less anxious.

It felt as if he had chased the night across the world. He had left in the evening from America and arrived in the evening in Eastern Slav Republic. He found a taxi and gave the driver a tip to break the speed limit and go farther than he reasonably should. Alexander lived in a small town an hour away from the nearest airport.

Once he stepped out of the taxi, duffel bag over his shoulder, it was after eleven at night. The streets were quiet and he could see the glow of Alexander’s kitchen light from the sidewalk outside of his building.

Leon walked into the complex and climbed up four flights of stairs. He was restless and so did not take the elevator. Exhausted and restless. It was not a good combination. At least his mind was honed, ready to push aside his own feelings and issues to focus on whatever Alexander needed from him.

He used his own key to get into Alexander’s apartment, a gift from the younger man before they had even become lovers.

The front door opened into his small living room that doubled as his office, a desk pushed up against the furthest left corner next to his bay windows. A half-wall designated the change from living room to the kitchen/dining room, which had always given Alexander trouble because it was the size of a matchbox and navigating around the central dining table had been like watching a semi-track trying to navigate a busy gas station. Alexander had always been determined to keep the dining table in the kitchen, however, and no number of getting trapped in a corner had changed his mind.

There was a short corridor straight ahead from the front door that ended in a bathroom just slightly larger than a closet, an actual closet on the left side of the corridor that was ironically the same size as the bathroom, and then Alexander’s bedroom on the right side of the corridor. Although the apartment was not large, each room had enough space for Alexander to turn around in his chair. Support bars had been installed around his toilet and a seat had been set up in his shower stall. A big part of Alexander choosing this apartment over other options despite Leon’s offer to help pay for more space had been its nearness to his workplace, the working elevators, and the landlord’s willingness to make the apartment accessible for Alexander’s needs without charging an arm and a leg.

As Leon stepped inside and toed off his shoes, he noted reflexively that nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing had been tossed, broken, or shattered. There was no ransom note, suicide note, or the sound of the undead.

So far, so good.

He went around the half-wall into the kitchen.

Although it was eleven at night, Alexander was seated in his wheelchair at the table with a steaming mug of what Leon surmised was coffee. His eyes were shut, as if in deep concentration, and he was taking deep, even breaths.

Leon approached cautiously. “Sasha?” he called softly. He rested his hand lightly on the back of Alexander’s chair.

Alexander opened familiar dark eyes and glanced at him. “ _Kotya_ ,” he breathed. “Something has happened, and I do not know how to explain it.”

“I kind of got that feeling,” Leon admitted, relaxing in increments. Alexander was not undead. He had called Leon _kotya_ , which meant he was not angry at Leon. The apartment was in one piece.

No bad news yet.

Alexander sighed from the very bottom of his diaphragm and then wheeled in reverse. Once he was clear of the table, he put his hands on the arms of his chair and –

Alexander stood up.

Leon had forgotten how tall he was.

Leon stared at him, eyes wide and feeling as if the rug had just been pulled from beneath his feet. Alexander’s hands came to rest lightly on his hips, nudging him back toward the living room.

“I don’t get it,” Leon said intelligently. He walked backward into the next room, unwilling to look away. His heart was racing in his chest. “Sasha, how – ?”

“I do not know,” Alexander told him. “Last weekend, I believe I had a fever, and I did not leave my bed. When the fever broke, my legs began to itch, and then to burn. It was – it was awful. It was the worst day of my life.”

“You didn’t call me.” Leon winced at the accusation in his own voice.

Alexander flinched as well. “I am sorry. I did not want to worry you.”

“What kind of double standard bullshit is this?” he hissed. “If I don’t come to you with my problems, I get the cold shoulder and “agent this”, “agent that”. But you don’t have to come to me with your problems?”

Alexander looked away in shame. “I am sorry,” he said with such emotion that Leon’s anger was somewhat abated. “You are right, and I am so sorry. I want you to come to me with your problems because you carry the world on your shoulders, but I do not want to bother you with my troubles because I already have so little to give you.”

“That’s –”

“That is how I feel,” Alexander interrupted him before Leon could tell him exactly how _he_ felt about that. “I know I am wrong, that my wellbeing is very important to you. I cannot change how I feel, though. I want to be your safe haven, not another problem draining you of life.”

“Fuck you, you have never been a problem to me.”

“I am sorry,” Alexander said again. “I should have reached out to you sooner, I know that. I am sorry, I will keep saying I am sorry for as long as I need to for you to forgive me, but _kotya_ – I was afraid.” His throat bobbed. Leon tracked the movement closely, saw the tremble of his lips, the wet haze of his eyes. “When I messaged you, I truly felt that I was going to become a monster.”

“What?” Wait. “You think this has something to do with the Plaga?”

“I do not believe that God reached down and fixed my spine,” Alexander admitted. “And I have not had any revolutionary surgery recently. The best theory I have heard, actually, is that gay sex healed my body.”

“Someone said that to you?” Leon asked incredulously. And then, in a hiss, “You talked to people? You went _outside_?”

“I went to work, yes…”

“When you thought the Plaga was alive inside of you?”

Alexander wrapped a hand around the back of Leon’s neck and pulled him in for a hug. “I understand why you are upset,” Alexander whispered as Leon embraced him in turn. “I know it sounds like a stupid thing to do.”

“You _think_?”

“I just wanted to see my children,” Alexander explained. “I was frightened. I thought I had little time left with them.”

Leon relaxed. “You keep talking in the past tense. You don’t think this has anything to do with the Plaga anymore?”

“I… I feel fine.” His surprise was clear in his voice. “I have shown none of the symptoms that I did back then. My mind is my own, there is no cramping, no bleeding, no sensation of being eaten alive. Even – here! Wait here a moment.” Alexander disentangled them and rushed back into the kitchen. When he returned, he held a paring knife. “It will not hurt me,” Alexander assured him. “It will not be able to cut me.” He pressed the blade down hard into his flesh. Leon’s breath caught in his chest as his body jolted forward to stop his lover from hurting himself –

And the knife did not hurt him. The knife did not cut him. Alexander put it back and switched to the serrated knife in the knife block. With gusto, he sawed at his arm and the worst that happened were slight indents in his skin that instantly went away. He switched once more to a vegetable knife and stabbed it straight down at his inner elbow. The blade bent.

Leon reached out hesitantly, fingers dancing over soft, human flesh. He pressed down with his fingertips and there was little give, as if there was a sheet of metal just underneath Alexander’s skin.

Leon glanced from unharmed flesh to Alexander’s expectant gaze and then back again.

He had a question he was reluctant to ask.

After all, Alexander believed – or had believed – that he was infected again. Somehow, in the time Leon had been travelling, he had discovered that he was indestructible.

Leon licked his lips, hand circling his lover’s wrist and feeling for a pulse. It was faint, protected by Alexander’s armoredskin.

“Did you try to kill yourself?” Leon asked finally.

“What? I… No! No, _kotya_ , no.” Alexander dropped the bent knife and again pulled Leon to him, swaying him from side to side. “No, no, it was an accident. I was angry and I shattered a plate and when I tried to pick up the pieces, I was careless. Shards that should have hurt me could not penetrate my skin. After that, I tested my skin with a steak knife, just to be sure I was right. The steak knife broke. I did not try to kill myself, I promise.”

“I get it,” Leon said against the younger man’s shoulder, relief making him feel unsteady. Alexander hadn’t tried to kill himself. That was what Leon needed to know.

Alexander was standing and his skin was impenetrable and he was _okay_. He was showing no Control species Plaga Type 4 symptoms, like he should have been if the Plaga was alive – If, somehow, Leon had failed and seven surgeons had been wrong and the Plaga was alive.

But if the Plaga was dead, how had this happened?

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Leon decided. “I’m calling in a friend.”

“What friend?”

“Her name is Dr. Rebecca Chambers. She was one of the people with me for the Arias ordeal. She’s a virologist, and she can be discrete. I’m going to get her on the next flight here and tell her to bring a test kit with her. Hopefully, she’ll be able to get us quick results.”

“And if she is not available?”

“Then I’m not leaving you alone until she can get here and tell us for sure what is going on.” Leon pressed his forehead to Alexander’s.

Alexander sagged against him, relieved. Leon was not sure how he was going to swing this with the DSO. At best, he had Hunnigan on his side and she might be able to push for psychiatric leave. Leon would have to do a virtual evaluation with a doctor to get approved for the leave, but he wasn’t able to make himself fly back to America knowing that he might not have a boyfriend to come back to Europe for. If Alexander’s Plaga had somehow reanimated, then Leon was going to do whatever he could to deal with it. If the changes that had occurred in Alexander’s body had been the result of something else, some dormant ability of a long-dead parasite that had taken seven years to kick in or, fuck, sure, if it had been _gay sex_ , then Leon wanted to know.

And he wanted to know _quietly_. Because the last fucking thing he wanted was a whole team storming Alexander’s apartment, putting him in quarantine and treating him like a lab rat. Rebecca would treat Alexander with respect.

“I am sorry,” Alexander whispered against his mouth. “I never want to cause you pain, I know this hurts you. I feel fine. I feel okay.”

Famous last words, Leon thought cynically.

Alexander pulled them toward the bedroom. “Lay down with me,” he suggested. “I will read to you. You look exhausted.”

“I have to stay awake,” Leon instantly rebuked. “I have to…” He had to watch Alexander. Make sure that he didn’t change in the middle of the night. Alexander shook his head just once, jaw set, and that was the face of a Freedom Fighter who had gone up against his corrupt government to battle for independence, to defend his people, to stop baseless mass murders.

He was set in stone.

“I will read _Martin the Warrior_ to you,” he told Leon. “You will rest your head on my chest and you will sleep.”

“I’d rather not die in my sleep!” Leon snapped. “What if you lose yourself and I never get the chance to wake up again?”

He had a small epiphany – why bother waking up again if Alexander was gone? Leon had lost so many people. He had been telling himself for years, had even told Alexander so long ago, that they owed it to the people who had not made it to stay alive.

But Leon was so tired. He depended on Alexander so much, which was a sudden and awful insight into his own wellbeing. Alexander was his safe haven. In a world that had dealt him one shitty card after the next, Sasha had become a happy place, his home. And yet, in that moment, Leon was forced to recognize that he wasn’t allowed to have nice things. There wasn’t a ship he could get on that wouldn’t sink with him on it and he was so tired of swimming.

Leon met his boyfriend’s steady gaze. It was as if Leon had absorbed all his fear into himself and left Sasha brave and sturdy.

“That will not happen, not tonight,” Alexander told him, so sure of himself. “I cannot tell you how I know that, but I do. I am not certain of a month from now, a year, ten years – but tonight? You will sleep. In the morning, you will call your friend. Well-rested and well-fed, you will keep me company for however long needs must. If anything happens to me, you will be here.”

“You can’t know that. That isn’t how this works.”

“You cannot know that I will change tonight,” Sasha returned. “If I begin to have symptoms, I will wake you up. Is it a deal?”

It wasn’t as if Alexander could sleep through the Type 4 symptoms, Leon reasoned with himself. Then again, the Plaga should be dead. What they were dealing with was unknown and treating it lightly could get them killed and put the entire apartment complex in danger.

Leon suddenly felt a responsibility for the lives of more than forty people. At least it wasn’t a large apartment complex.

Leon was so tired.

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted.

“I will read to you, _kotya_ ,” Alexander soothed. “You like the sound of my voice. It is sexy, is it not?”

Leon snorted, throat tight.

What if he woke up tomorrow and this Alexander was gone? What if he faced a monster with his lover’s face, mouth twisted in a sneer and eyes blood red?

Leon did not want to wake up to that kind of morning.

“It’s an okay voice,” Leon lied, as if that voice had not talked him through multiple orgasms during long-distance video and phone calls.

“I promise you,” Alexander said, and that was so serious that he was promising something like this, “that you are safe tonight.” He glanced toward his door. “You did not bring a bag?”

“I came here straight from work,” Leon admitted. “I have my wallet, my phone, my bike keys, and my passport.” He was glad he kept that on him. It had saved his ass more than once with his grab-and-go lifestyle.

“You can borrow my clothes to sleep,” Sasha offered.

“You did not call me halfway across the world, tell me that the Plaga I killed seven years ago might still be alive inside of you, walk on your own two damn legs, _and_ show me that you are now incapable of being fucking stabbed just to tuck me in and read to me like I’m one of your students, _Alexander_.”

“Actually, that is exactly what I did,” his boyfriend told him. “Whoops.”

“Fucking _whoops_?”

“If you will not fall asleep,” Alexander finally allowed, “At least give me the pleasure of lying in bed with you?”

Leon’s nerves were jumping. He was so tired.

He wanted to sleep so badly.

And yet his body wanted other things, adrenaline and fear and the impending threat of being alone looming over him.

Leon tangled his hand in Alexander’s hair and dragged the younger man’s mouth to his with desperation. As if they were about to die. His hands went under Alexander’s button-down, short nails dragging over a soft belly and ribs.

Sasha was frozen for a moment, taken by surprise. It only took him a moment to react, to recognize that this was the action of a frantic man. His mouth opened to Leon’s tongue, his hands cupping Leon’s face as he led them blindly to bed.

“I am fine,” he whispered between Leon’s bruising kisses. “I am alright.” He pulled away only to jerk his shirt off, undershirt getting pulled over his head.

The pendant Leon had given him for the patron saint of teachers hung around his neck, the silver against his tan skin captivating. Stripped down to his jeans, he turned to pulling Leon’s clothes off. Leon let Sasha take his jacket and shirt without a fight but attached his mouth to the younger man’s throat before his sports bra could be removed. Alexander moaned, hands dropping to Leon’s belt and jerking it free of his pants. He shoved at Leon’s jeans and briefs, only able to get them a few inches down his thighs without separating Leon from the wicked hickey he was given Sasha.

It was enough. His hand pushed between muscular thighs and rubbed against Leon’s cunt.

“I am alive,” Alexander assured him. “I am not leaving you.” His other hand rucked Leon’s bra up, rubbing tight little circles over one nipple. “I love you.” He sucked in a wavering breath as Leon’s own hands went to work unbuttoning Alexander’s jeans, pushing them down so he could get to the younger man’s dick. Leon was not going slow and gentle into that goodnight.

If he woke up and Alexander was gone –

Leon was going to have this. As long as Sasha let him, he was taking this for himself.

Leon grabbed Alexander by his hips, twisted around, and threw his boyfriend on the bed. Alexander bounced on the mattress once, a woosh of air leaving him, and was busy kicking his jeans off before he had fully settled. Leon stripped out of his own clothes hastily and then climbed onto his boyfriend’s lap, hands on Alexander’s shoulders.

Sasha rested a hand on his hip. “Calm,” he rumbled. He petted Leon’s left thigh, the other going to his bedside table and fishing for lube. “Calm, _kotya_. I have you.”

Leon was losing his damn _mind_ , and Sasha was telling him to be calm? There were just some things in the world that were impossible and that was one of them.

He wrapped his lips around one of Sasha’s nipples, the bud tiny and hard under his tongue. Sasha nudged and thrust slippery fingers into Leon’s body, making sure there would be no discomfort. Leon shivered and clenched around those fingers, gyrating down on them hard.

Alexander groaned helplessly under him.

“One – one – wait. _Kotya_ , calm.” Alexander was red in the chest, in the cheeks, eyes dark and heavy. He pulled himself up the bed and then rearranged his two pillows behind him so that he could sit against the wall. Reaching under them, he managed to wrestle free the top quilt after a minute of them clumsily shifting around. He let the quilt fall to one side, other hand on his dick, and urged Leon onto his lap with his right hand.

“There!” he gaped, head knocking back against the wall. “Good God…”

Leon quivered, letting out a low moan as he worked himself up and down Sasha’s cock, feeling the other man for the first time in months. Leon had a dildo he used whenever he was particularly horny and Sasha was not available, but he had not been in the mood recently.

This felt new. Sasha had always been generously proportioned and yet, in that moment, he felt larger than life.

Pressed this close together, Leon’s chest was crushed against Sasha’s, belly to belly, and the heat building between them made them slick. Leon wrapped his arms around Alexander’s shoulders, tucking his head into the younger man’s neck, and…

And Leon sat there, Alexander’s thick penis inside of him, a part of him now.

This was all he wanted, he realized.

He just wanted to be as close to Sasha as possible. Yes, his body throbbed, and he wanted to get fucked, but he also just wanted to lay there and feel Alexander live.

Alexander was panting against his cheek, hot and damp. His hands roved over Leon’s shoulders and spine, down his thighs and over his calves. Leon’s knees were on either side of his hips and he managed to squeeze Leon’s ankles before he finally settled his arms around Leon’s waist and held him.

Sasha pressed a sloppy kiss to his temple.

“There we are,” he said. “Feel me?”

“Yeah,” Leon sighed. “Don’t move.”

“I have to move a little,” Alexander warned him. “Just for a moment.” He shifted to the side, reaching for the bedside table. His dick shifted with him and Leon hummed pleasurably, though he chose not to chase the feeling. He ached, his hips wanted to move, and yet Leon told himself that this was good. For now, for the moment, he only needed this.

Alexander righted them with a whine of “My _God_.” The quilt he had moved aside earlier he now threw over Leon’s shoulders and wrapped it around them, as if they weren’t already warm enough. The sauna-like heat trapped under the blanket made Leon’s eyelids droop.

The younger man closed his eyes tightly for a moment, Adam’s apple bobbing. Leon could feel Sasha shake beneath him, wanting to move and telling himself not to.

Eventually, Sasha breathed out and his eyes opened. The first thing he did was kiss Leon, slow and wet. Sasha freed his arms from the blanket and then settled them so that the quilt was tucked under his armpits. Leon became effectively trapped in a cocoon of warmth against Sasha’s chest. For a few moments, the younger man rubbed Leon’s back through the quilt and then he picked up the object he had retrieved from the bedside table.

He held _Martin the Warrior_. It had been in his bedroom this entire time since he had last read to Leon. Sasha let him see the cover and then brought the book behind Leon’s back. His chin on Leon’s shoulder, he prepared to read chapter two.

“Wouldn’t you rather have sex?” Leon asked almost desperately. He rolled his hips enticingly, causing Sasha to thrust up into him.

Alexander lifted his head and frowned at him. “Would _you_ rather have sex?”

Leon was so tired. He wanted to sit there, feel Alexander inside of him, and listen to his voice as he read.

He wanted that so much.

It felt so vulnerable. Like something he shouldn’t want.

Swallowing thickly, Leon quieted and kissed Sasha’s shoulder. The younger man returned his chin to its perch and began to read.

His deep, accented voice worked through Leon’s mind, into his chest. How awful was it that he could feel himself falling more in love with this guy? It was terrible.

The arousal faded first. He felt Sasha in him, warm and heavy, without urgency.

And then he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. Sasha’s voice seemed real and part of a dream at the same time.

Leon was not aware of the exact moment he fell asleep.

~::~

Leon was in his RPD uniform, hair long and pulled back into a ponytail because this was before he had cut it and started transitioning. He held a syringe gun in his hand like a firearm as he swept from one room to the next. The building looked just like Alexander’s apartment complex and yet it had all the wreckage and undead of the RPD as he had last seen it.

He stepped out of an office and there, down the hall where the lights flickered, was the Tyrant. It took heavy, thundering steps toward him and yet Leon did not move because, directly behind him, he could hear zombies groaning loudly.

As the Tyrant got closer, Leon realized that it was smaller than first believed. Where it had seemed bald, it had black hair and a scruffy beard. Where it had looked like it was wearing a fedora and trench coat, it wore a sensible two-piece suit.

Alexander Kozachenko stopped just in front of Leon, eyes red and unfeeling. His veins were protruding, and he was as pale as the Tyrant had been.

He wrapped a hand around Leon’s neck and now Leon looked as he did long after Raccoon City had happened, no longer with the long hair and pre-T body.

Alexander kissed him, tongue down Leon’s throat, so deep the agent choked on it. He could not breathe…

He lifted the syringe gun and –

The needle pierced his own neck –

Alexander opened his mouth wide, a Plaga Type 4 emerging to infect Leon.

Leon held his tongue out, hands on Alexander’s waist, and he let himself be infected.

And then, Leon woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all know that "Sasha" is the nickname for people in Russia whose name is "Alexander"? You don't call Alexander "Alex" in Russia when you're feeling friendly, you call him "Sasha", and I like that.


	3. Decide On Your Structure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon's terms for his genitalia: Breast, chest, cunt, lower lips, inner folds, inner walls, cervix, and dick  
> Don't ask me why, but I just cannot force myself to use the word "boob" in a story. I cannot. There are no boobs here, only breasts.  
> Get ready for dubious science!

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

Leon became conscious suddenly and with a sharp intake of air. His arms flailed across the bed, looking for a weapon –

No weapon. Also, luckily, no Alexander. Leon never wanted to hurt Alexander, but his nightmares sometimes caused him to fight in his sleep or when waking up.

Wait.

_No Alexander._

“Fuck!” Leon leaped out of bed, still naked, and hunted down the Berdysh handgun Alexander kept strapped under his mattress in case of an emergency.

He held the firearm down by his hip and began to sweep the apartment, heart so loud he could hear the ocean in his ears.

Fortunately, the apartment was not large. Alexander had left the bedroom door open and it took perhaps three steps to be able to hear him humming in the kitchen and smell breakfast being made.

Leon stalked into the kitchen, gun at his side. He pointed a finger accusingly at his boyfriend. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

Alexander gave him a concerned look. “ _Kotya_?”

“While I am here, I do not want to wake up alone and wonder where you went off to, do you understand?” Leon growled.

“Ah,” Alexander nodded. “Alright. I understand.” His eyes wandered over Leon, longing on his face. With effort, he dragged his gaze back to Leon’s. “I am sorry that you woke up alone. I had hoped I was loud enough for you to hear me.”

Leon would have if his heart had calmed the hell down for a second.

“Would you like to get dressed before breakfast?”

Leon put the safety on the handgun and then set it down on the kitchen table. At the moment, it was the only firearm they had. Leon had not been able to get his own firearm through the airport given that this was not official business and he had been on a commercial flight.

Alexander studied the firearm morosely, understanding who in the apartment it was for.

“Do I have time to take a shower?” Leon asked. Curiously, he swiped a finger against his cunt. Leon noted with some pride that Alexander shivered when he did so.

There was some mess of lube, but no seed. Leon had sat on Sasha’s dick for who knew how long, unconscious, in a committed relationship with the man, and Sasha still hadn’t taken advantage of him.

It explained why he was so antsy this morning too. His eyes kept returning to Leon, distracted from his grenki. He only jerked back to the pan when a scent of smoke invaded the room. That grenki went onto a plate Leon knew was Alexander’s own. The man would not waste food and yet also refused to feed Leon anything he found subpar.

“Damn it – yes. Yes, you have time to take a shower.” A new piece of stale bread was drenched in a sugar and egg mix and then tossed in the pan.

Leon sauntered up to him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. He pressed a kiss to the knob of his spine just beneath his neck, then bit it gently.

“After I call Rebecca,” he murmured low against Alexander’s ear, “How about we go back to bed?”

He noted that the sun was high through the bay windows in the living room. Alexander had chosen not to go to work again.

Leon had already reacted badly to Sasha leaving the room. He was almost embarrassed to imagine what he might have done had his boyfriend left the apartment entirely.

“I would like that,” Alexander said. “First, shower – then, breakfast. After that, your friend.”

He should leave and get on that, the agent thought. That would be great, except letting go of Alexander to do so sounded stupid. Leon kissed his jaw. “I need you to be okay,” he admitted quietly. “I’m… not prepared for if you’re not here.”

Alexander reached behind him and gave Leon’s hip a reassuring squeeze. “I cannot see the future,” he said, which was distinctly _not_ reassuring. “But, for today? I am okay. I am here with you.”

For the moment, Alexander was here with him.

~::~

Getting Rebecca to fly across the world to run tests on his boyfriend without telling anyone was… surprisingly easy.

“I am _very_ good at keeping secrets,” she assured him. She was, in fact, so good at keeping secrets that she didn’t even give details on that cryptic as hell statement. Leon began to wonder what kind of secrets the doctor had.

Since he was getting what he wanted, he decided to let her be mysterious. She had some things to wrap up, she admitted, so it would be closer to two days before she could leave the States, and then at least eighteen hours before she would arrive in Eastern Slav Republic. She was of the professional opinion that urine tests would tell them whether or not Alexander had a Plaga species Type 4 in him.

“Because Type 4 was purposely designed to take over its host, it not only causes cellular decay at an accelerated rate, but also produces eggs quickly that are laid in the intestines. Once the first egg hatches in each batch, it kills the remaining eggs to increase its own chances of survival and then journeys to the mouth where, as a larva, it is dispelled to infect someone else. The parent Plaga will then continue to keep laying hatches where only the strongest can continue its life cycle.

Hypothetically speaking, in a living host like your significant other, the unsuccessful eggs should dissolve and go through the kidneys before being expelled as urine. If there is a living Plaga in him, the first thing it will focus its energy on will be to reproduce and guarantee the continuation of its genetics.”

That already went against what had happened. The first thing that had happened was that Alexander was healed and developed armor. Leon curiously eyed the gun.

Would bullets be able to penetrate Sasha’s skin? Leon did not want to try and found out.

“So, you’re going to see if there are eggs in his piss.”

“The eggs have a specific chemical makeup that I can test for. So, in a way, yes.”

“What if there is a Plaga, but it hasn’t focused on reproducing?”

“The test will also tell me if any of his organs are failing. What made the Type 4 subpar compared to the Type 1 parasite was that it killed the host from the inside and then wore the host until it could no longer live on dead tissue. If there is a Type 4 Plaga, we will see the liver shutting down, the kidneys, we’ll see blood, high levels of nitrites… Essentially, we will either find eggs or we will find that he is dying.”

“I don’t like either of those options. What’s our third choice?”

“That he doesn’t have a Plaga,” she answered easily. “In which case, I can take a DNA sample and figure out what is actually going on. A cheek swab should do it. Who knows what interesting things we might find.”

“That sounded dirty, Dr. Chambers.”

“His mouth better _not_ be dirty, _Agent Kennedy_. I will let you know when I am leaving. I need Alexander to fast for twelve hours before I start the tests. He cannot eat or drink except water. I want clean results.”

“Got it. Thank you for doing this. I… I appreciate it.”

“I owe you a lot,” Rebecca replied softly. “This is the very least I can do for you.”

They hung up. Leon turned to his lover. Alexander could be dying. That was one of the options.

He sure looked pale all of a sudden, but Leon had the feeling that it wasn’t because his organs were currently failing. Alexander continued to look healthy.

Their eyes caught, so much going unsaid that Leon could write a book about it. There was that old determination, that pain, in his lover’s eyes, the kind he had worn right before he put that pistol under his chin and got ready to pull the trigger years ago.

Alexander cleared his throat, the first to look away. “Perhaps you can come with me to school tomorrow as my visitor?”

It was something Leon had done in the past. The kids always lost their minds when they met a native English speaker. This way, Alexander could be happy and Leon could keep him in sight.

It wasn’t foolproof, but it was a compromise.

“Sounds like a plan,” Leon agreed. Sasha smiled with relief.

Sasha actually loved his job. He loved those children as if they were his own, and the children adored him in turn. Leon didn’t like the idea of endangering a school, and yet Alexander… continued to be fine. He showed no symptoms of the Plaga Type 4.

Alexander finished drying and putting away the dishes from their breakfast. On cue, Leon stood from the table, wearing his lover’s clothing, and retreated to the bedroom.

When Alexander entered, Leon had already stripped out of the shirt and jeans his lover had lent him. He hadn’t bothered putting his sports bra back on. Alexander’s boxers clung to his full ass like booty shorts.

For a long moment, they simply watched each other – Leon almost naked and Alexander still fully dressed.

“One more,” the younger man breathed. “Just one more, _kotya_ …”

Leon hooked his thumbs in the boxers and dragged them down to his knees. Gravity brought them to his ankles where he kicked them off and away.

Alexander appreciated the view with a drawn-out nod. “Good God, I am blessed.”

Considering everything else going on in his life, Leon thought that was the dumbest shit he had ever heard. He kept that to himself. “You going to do anything about this or do I have to take care of myself?”

“I believe turnabout is fair play in this case,” Alexander said as he sauntered closer.

“What are you talk-”

Alexander grasped him by the waist, swung around, and threw him into bed.

“Hey!”

“Hello.” Alexander wrapped his hands around Leon’s ankles, bending his legs up and apart. At the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees and then pulled Leon’s calves over his shoulders. He switched his grip to Leon’s waist and dragged him in until every damp breath Alexander took played against his cunt. “How are you today, _kotya_?” he asked teasingly, lips just grazing sensitive flesh.

Wasn’t that a loaded question.

“I need you,” he said plainly.

Sasha’s teasing faded. Solemnly, he kissed one inner thigh and then the other. “You have me,” he reminded him. His hands wrapped around Leon’s waist. “I am yours.” He ran the flat of his tongue over Leon, lapping at lips. The promise of pleasure made Leon melt into the bed, hips rolling with every drag, aiming for something deeper. That familiar tongue pressed into his cunt, finding his dick and playing with it, pursing his lips tight and _sucking_. Leon arched off the bed, groaning low. His hands tangled in Alexander’s thick hair, pulling roughly. Sasha hummed happily. He wrapped his arms around each of Leon’s thighs so that he could reach between them and pull his lips apart, tongue running messily over inner folds before circling his dick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he choked. “That’s good…”

Alexander pulled back, gusting hot air on him. Leon shivered, and then cried out when Sasha flicked his dick in hard little pulses. Using his hold on Alexander’s hair like reins, he pulled his lover’s mouth back to his dick, earning a guttural chuckle from the man.

“Let me have my fun,”

“My body, my rules,” Leon told him.

“ _Kotya_ ,” Alexander admonished softly, darkly. “You _like_ my rules.” He dragged his rough thumbs up and down Leon’s inner folds. One of those thumbs pressed into him, just the pad, and then rubbed up the center of his cunt and over the side of his dick. “Be a good boy and let me play.”

“God _damnit_ ,” Leon wheezed. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. One sense gone, he became hyperfixated on every little thing Alexander did to him: His fingers, drumming on the sensitive inner folds of his cunt, teeth nibbling and tongue circling, mouth sucking. Sweat gathered on his thighs, breath getting harsher, and a tight ball of tension was catching fire low in his gut. He was edging toward oversensitive, heels digging into Alexander’s back and all but yanking his hair out, when Alexander finally sat back.

Suddenly, Leon was very unhappy.

“Why’d you stop?” he slurred. He tried to pull Sasha back in with his legs. “I’m playing nice.” He rolled his hips off the bed and toward his lover. “I’m playful.”

Alexander flicked his dick again, making him gasp. “I can see that,” he husked. “Now I want to play a different game. All the way on the bed now, please. I will be right back.”

Leon groaned, this time not in a lusty way. He’d been having sex with Alexander long enough now to not argue, but he _thought_ about it.

The thing was that Alexander never went cunt-to-mouth. He acted like it was an affront to nature and disgustingly unsanitary. They used to keep a bottle of mouthwash next to the bed whenever Sasha wanted to go down on him – or up, considering that Sasha would lay down flat and then Leon would sit on his face and…

And, well, shit.

Sex was really different now.

Leon crawled backward up the bed, listening to Sasha gargle in the bathroom just next door. Sasha had walked there. Sasha had just kneeled on the ground while Leon laid flat on the bed and had eaten him out like a buffet.

He collapsed with his head on the pillows this time. He kept one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, spread apart. Without Alexander between his thighs, his cunt felt wet and cold, even as it throbbed and his body hungered.

Leon could… just lay here. Let Alexander do the work. His hand wandered over a breast, down his abs and to his dick, playing rough little circles over it that made his inner thighs jump.

“That’s _my_ fucking throne,” he grumbled to himself. He had been bouncing on Alexander’s dick for years now, had fully mastered the art of sitting sex, and had the rock-hard thighs to prove it.

Alexander padded back in and paused at the foot of the bed to watch as Leon lazily masturbated. He had stripped in the bathroom. Leon drifted his eyes appreciatively over the entirety of his lover.

“Why are you always so mean to yourself?” Sasha asked, even with his face a caricature of desire. He squeezed his dick around the base and then gave it a few pumps.

“C’mere,” Leon growled. He planted both feet on the bed so he could raise his hips off the mattress and toward Alexander. He used his fingers to spread his lips wide, clenching his inner walls so that his cunt winked flirtatiously.

Alexander sucked in a deep breath. Never looking away, he put one knee and then the other on the bed and shuffled between Leon’s thighs. His hands landed reverently on Leon’s hips.

“Got you!” Leon hissed. In one fluid motion, he scissored his legs, tossing Alexander to the side. He followed his lover and landed neatly where he belonged, on the other man’s lap. Alexander’s arms flailed out, one catching on the bedside table to stop him from tumbling right off the edge of the bed. The look he threw Leon was between adoration and rage. Leon gazed down upon him superiorly. “Some lube would really get this party going,” he rumbled, grinding down on Alexander’s wet cock.

“Oh, of course,” Alexander agreed gamely. He reached into the bedside table. “Allow me to – ”

He had once been a Freedom Fighter, that was true. He was years out of practice though, so his attempt to catch Leon around the waist and shove him back down on the bed was met with instant resistance. The two tumbled back and then –

Alexander fell off the _other_ side of the mattress, dragging Leon down with him. He landed with barely a sound, hardly phased. Leon landed on top of him victoriously. “Be a _good_ boy for me,” he purred.

“That is awful advice,” Alexander growled. “You like bad boys.” There was something truly vicious and determined in his expression now. He hadn’t taken on his entire government to give up now when there was something else he wanted.

He still held the lube in one hand – having actually grabbed it – as he crunched his upper body off the ground, brought his legs up, and managed to lunge up and over, dropping Leon beneath him. His free hand cradled the back of the agent’s head to save him from cranial damage, but the rest of Leon’s body made unforgiving contact with the hardwood floor. It was, even by Leon’s standards, an impressive maneuver he had not seen coming.

He could have instantly retaliated – could have been fighting back before he even hit the ground – but Alexander’s mouth was on him, tasting sweet and bitter like their breakfast and his black coffee, his tongue pushing into Leon’s mouth, and –

For a moment, Leon was in the RPD, the undead groaning behind him and an infected Alexander in front of him, Leon opening his mouth to welcome the Plaga into his body –

And it was just a moment, a span of a single breath, and Alexander’s fingers were already slick with lube and thrusting into Leon’s body, opening him up for something bigger and more demanding.

Leon watched him somberly, the pinched determination of his brows, the curl of his smirk as he believed he had finally conquered the DSO agent in battle, the heavy weight of his dark eyes before he sank down and pulled Leon’s breast into his mouth and suckled.

He looped his arms over Alexander’s shoulders, fingers tangling in thick hair, and stared up at the ceiling.

If it came down to it… If he had to… Could Leon kill Alexander? Or would he let Alexander kill him?

“ _Kotya_?” he asked softly, his frenzied movements slowing as he realized Leon was no longer actively participating. “Is this… is this not okay? Do you need to be on top?”

Alexander gazed down at him with concern wrinkling his forehead. He always looked so serious, so angry, when he was worried.

“This is good, actually,” Leon realized aloud. Alexander’s weight on top of him, warm and alive, was welcome. “I’m giving the location a two out of ten, though.”

Alexander scoffed. “Always a critic. It is your fault we are here to begin with.”

“Actually, _you_ kissed _me_.”

“I mean _right now_ , not years ago. I am not giving you credit for my brilliant idea.”

“So this relationship is a brilliant idea, huh?”

“Oh, yes. One of my best.”

Alexander sat up, hands on Leon’s elbows pulling the shorter man with him. Leon planted his hands on the bed and lifted himself up and onto the mattress, crawling on hands and knees to get back to the center.

Hands settled on his hips, thumbs feathering over the dimples on either side of his spine. His progress was halted, the bed dipping as Alexander kneeled behind him.

The vulnerability of this position suddenly struck Leon, throat drying and heart galloping. He gasped, Alexander _not even doing anything_ , and dropped to his elbows.

“ _Kotya_?” Sasha asked. He thrust forward, the head of his cock smearing between Leon’s ass cheeks, balls slapping against Leon’s cunt.

Leon stared blindly at his clenched fists.

He knew the question and he knew his answer, but, hell, he’d never been fucked in this position. “Do it,” he croaked. He spread his knees farther apart and dropped his head onto a pillow. Hands caressed up and down his spine before one gripped him by the back of his neck – holy shit, that _did_ something, and Leon gasped again, hot and feeling out of breath, and he was throbbing, toes curling, and he couldn’t help but clench down on nothing –

Alexander’s penis nudged at him, glans rubbing up and down his inner folds before he worked his hips in small circles, glans never fully entering him so much as teasing about it.

It was the waiting that was going to make Leon kill him, he decided. It was the hand holding him down, the press of Alexander’s thighs against the back of his own, the feeling of being mounted like an animal –

Except Alexander wasn’t holding him down. His hand simply rested there on Leon’s nape, only a suggestion. Leon _wanted_ Alexander to press him down, to suffocate him on the blanket while he fucked Leon hard and fast.

“Sasha,” Leon choked. “Babe, please…”

“Please, what?”

Leon pushed his own face into the pillow, unsure how to ask with words and hoping actions would speak for him. He reached behind his own head, found Alexander’s wrist, and pulled on his lover’s arm so that Leon’s head was forced deeper into the pillow. It only took moments for him to understand.

The hand tightened, almost bruising, and Alexander put his weight behind it. Leon barely managed to turn his head enough to heave for air, hands clenching at the pillowcase, and, still, Alexander was doing _so_ _little_.

Sasha thrust his dick against Leon’s, punching a groan out of the agent. Sasha was panting behind him. “You are already so _close_ ,” he realized, as if surprised. “How are you so close already? Do you like this? Do you really like being held down and mounted like a dog?”

Leon whimpered, hips nudging back, wanting more and needing _so little_.

Alexander rested his chest against Leon’s back, knees inside of Leon’s, and, at fucking last, his dick nudged inside. Inch after inch, Sasha rolled his hips to push deeper into Leon’s clenching walls, and the angle made him feel so fucking big, so much bigger than he already was, and Leon’s mouth opened on a soundless scream as Sasha thrust into him again and again in short, forceful thrusts until he was pressed deep.

Disgustingly needy and weak “Uhn uhn uuuhhnn – ” grunts were strangled out of Leon.

When Alexander was sheathed in him, all the way to the root, his free hand curled under Leon’s waist and lube-slick fingers flicked and circled and played with his dick –

Leon whined, eyes hazy and distant, and he completely gave in. He was useless as Alexander gyrated into him, each draw long and deep. He managed, at some point, to start thrusting back against Alexander. The _jolt_ every time his lover bottomed out in him, the sharp pleasure-pain of his cervix getting knocked at, was making Leon _whine_.

The sound of skin slapping against skin – the embarrassing, wet slurp of Alexander’s wet dick plunging in and out of Leon’s lubed up cunt – the air damp and heavy with sweat and sex – The rough pads of Alexander’s fingers on Leon’s fragile, hypersensitive dick –

Without knowing when it happened, Leon was overwhelmed and the ball of tension in his belly snapped. A completely new sound ravaged his throat, somewhere between growling and a moan, as his orgasm flowed through him in waves. He rippled around Alexander, dick pulsing, and then he collapsed right off of Sasha’s still-hard cock.

Alexander _snarled_. His body landed flat on top of Leon, a hand coming under Leon’s one knee to pull his leg up to a right angle and open him up for more. He found Leon unerringly and thrust back inside, hips jackhammering as he chased his own climax now that Leon had had his pleasure. Leon groaned weakly, clenching down on Alexander with little strength to help his lover. A mouth struck his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, nipping and leaving hickeys like bruises.

It only took a minute, not even two, for the taller man to whine low in his throat, to plunge as deep into Leon as he could go, and for Leon to feel him cum, wet and hot inside of him.

He wheezed against wet cotton, hands squeezing and releasing the pillow under his head. He was sweaty, skin cooling, and a whole disaster of a man that had just been ruined by the power of sex with his boyfriend. Alexander was hardly any better off, his full weight having fallen on Leon after he orgasmed. His face was squished between Leon’s shoulders, arms trembling on either side of him, and he sounded like he had just been running in a marathon.

“That was…” Alexander cleared his throat, licked Leon’s spine, and tried again. “That was different.”

Leon erupted into a dry, croaking chuckle. “Oh, yeah, _different_ ,” he agreed mockingly. “That’s what every guy likes to hear after sex.”

“You are welcome,” Alexander purred, and then chuffed. “Okay, okay… That was _very good_.” He trembled as he pushed himself up, planting a kiss to the corner of Leon’s parted lips. “And now, I think it is time for another shower.”

“Damn, Sasha,” Leon grumbled. “Let a man enjoy the afterglow, would you? Or is there someplace we have to be?” He grimaced as Alexander slipped free of his body, jizz trickling free to be wet and sticky in his pubic hair. “Alright, maybe you’re onto something.”

“I am a smart man,” Alexander reminded him haughtily. “I have smart ideas.”

“You think so?” Leon challenged.

“Shut up and get in the shower.”

~::~

Going to school as Alexander’s show-and-tell was always an adventure in self-control. Not because the kids were bad, but because they were loud and curious, and Alexander’s rules were strict for how Leon could speak to them.

He had to use English, first of all – no conjectures, no American slang, he had to use clear enunciation, and he had to use small, simple words that a child would understand. Alexander’s students were not even pre-teens and their attention span was short; they wanted to know what America was like, if he liked Eastern Slav Republic or America better, if he knew movie stars, if he _was_ a movie star, did he eat pizza every day, what kind of games did he play, did he have kids, where did he live – they wanted to know everything, but they easily got frustrated if they couldn’t understand his answers. There was one kid in the class who struggled more than his peers and made it obvious by yelling every time Leon opened his mouth. After all, if _no one_ could hear Leon, then _no one_ could understand him, and that made the little boy feel better.

Leon and Alexander had to tag-team – the American would speak in short, overly pronounced sentences so that the children who did understand could follow along; after a pause, Alexander would translate. There would be another pause and then Alexander asked each student to repeat one word they had heard in their native language and then in English. The process was slow and, with four class periods in a day, not many questions were actually answered. Nonetheless, each student left gossiping excitedly. Alexander received many thanks and Leon had a shy little girl kiss his cheek before she disappeared into the corridor.

Eventually, the school day ended. Leon was tired, his nerves somewhat strained, and yet he could not deny that he had enjoyed himself. Alexander’s kids were good. The man himself practically _glowed_ with happiness with features softened in a smile that wouldn’t go away.

He was fine. No symptoms, no pain, no blood. Leon didn’t have to ask to know that his lover had had a great day so far.

On the walk home, neighbors of Alexander’s wished him good health. It was odd that Eastern Slav Republic had seceded from the Soviet Union, separating from Russia not too long ago while still considered themselves Russians, and yet they were wholly accepting of Leon’s relationship with their beloved primary school teacher.

One little old lady, Ingrid, came up to him and gave him her unfettered opinion on just how Alexander got to be walking again.

“The sex,” she told him in English she had learned from Alexander, accent heavy. Leon had learned Russian for his lover, but his neighbors preferred to practice English with him instead of listening to his horrible articulation. “Putin hates the gays because gay sex heals the body,” she announced loudly. An equally old lady a few feet away _giggled_. “That is too much power,” she continued. “That is why Putin hates the gays. They have much power.”

Leon squinted at her, realized she was serious, and nodded vaguely along. “Yes,” he said gravely. “Magical… gay healing sex…”

She squished his cheeks between her hands and winked at him. “I would know,” she whispered. She tilted her head in the direction of the other little old lady. “Not married,” she admitted. “Still mine for _fifty_ years.”

“Wow.” Leon was impressed. It showed on his face, mushed as it was in her grasp. “That is a long time.”

“Sex _still_ good!”

“I really…” Did not need to know that, he thought. “am so happy for you. You show Putin who has the power.”

“No,” she rebuked. “ _We_ show Putin who has the power!” She cackled delightedly, gave his face a rather harsh slap, and then kissed both his cheeks. She waddled on by and her lady love waddled even faster to catch up. The two grannies bowed their heads toward one another, whispering and laughing, hands catching and holding between them.

Leon stared after them with such a powerful sense of yearning that he was ashamed to say his eyes got wet. He blinked it away quickly.

How much time was he going to have with Alexander?

The man had stood back, watching Leon being accosted by Ingrid with pleasure. He opened his mouth, obviously about to make a joke, and then thought better of it. Instead, Alexander said, “Ready to go home, _kotya_?”

Leon was ready for a drink, for a goddamn break, for sleep. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t even expecting to _live_ till fifty. He was surprised he had made it to his forties.

He eyed his lover.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready for more gay healing sex,” he said. Alexander blushed. “Haven’t you heard? It’s practically a superpower.”

“I have heard, actually.” He bumped his shoulder with Leon’s, tangling their hands together as they walked down the street.

~::~

When they had first become lovers, Alexander had been delighted by Leon’s ability to have multiple orgasms, even though he himself sometimes could not maintain an erection. However, in the past few years, Leon had become less and less sexually inclined. Depression, he thought secretly to himself. These past few days had been the most sex he had had in at least, what – a year?

He wasn’t asking for sex out of a sense of libido, though. He wanted the connection, wanted the intimate knowledge of Alexander’s health and life inside of him, wanted kiss-swollen lips and damp heat.

There was an urgency, an itch, under his skin. A sign popped up in his mind, “Get it while supplies last”.

Until Rebecca showed up and gave them a definitive answer, they were really operating on the belief system that Alexander wasn’t going to change _for now_ , but that he could _in the future_. Leon had even offered Alexander a back massage last night before bed for the purpose of feeling up and down his spine, thinking maybe he would be able to make out the shape of the parasite – except massages were a moot point, seeing as how there was that steel-hard surface just beneath Alexander’s soft skin. The planes of his scapulae and the line of his spine had been harder than stone, and Leon had not been able to assure himself either way of the parasite’s existence.

Get it while supplies last, he thought bitterly to himself.

It shouldn’t come to that, he tried to argue. They would just kill the parasite.

Again? They had tried that once and now here they were. Obviously, Leon was incapable of doing anything right.

Leon reminded himself of the seven surgeons who had agreed that the parasite was dead.

It had never died, though, had it? It had regenerated, reanimated, mutated, it had _something_ , and it was back, and Leon had failed the one person in the world who never demanded anything of him except his love and his company.

Leon was in hyperdrive after they got home from Alexander’s school. He kept instigating sex from Alexander, knowing that it was the closeness he wanted and not the orgasms, and yet he kept getting orgasms anyway. Yes, Leon was capable of having more than one, but Alexander… Alexander should not have that ability.

He was, after all, a man in his thirties. Even a healthy man without spinal cord damage would have needed some prescription help in achieving not one, not two, but fucking _four_ erections in the space of three hours. Hell, a healthy man would have had to go to the hospital by that point.

Every time, though, _every single time_ Leon turned back to Alexander – You fucking failed, Kennedy, get it while supplies last because your boyfriend’s going to fucking die and you can’t stop it this time _–_ he was met with equal if not more lust than before. He knew Alexander had climaxed, had seed stuck in his pubic hair, painting his inner thighs, dribbling onto the bed, and so he knew that this wasn’t just one erection that wasn’t going down, no.

Alexander just kept bouncing back – _literally_ , his dick bouncing off his belly, red and flushed and ready to go – with a refraction period of _holy shit, how?_ And it didn’t seem to surprise the taller man, to even slow him down, as he kept taking the bait Leon was throwing at him. However, Leon was reaching the point where he was actually sore and tired and the pleasure was edging toward pain, and yet he couldn’t stop.

He wanted Alexander to tap out first. Leon’s competitive nature kicked in at the absolute fucking worst time and he hardened his jaw and took that dick like a champ.

At least when he was being competitive, he was too busy to be sad.

There came a point in the night where Leon’s hand slapped around the bedside table, searching for his phone. It was three in the morning, they had school in a few hours, and Leon was such a filthy mess, some outsider would have thought he had just been gangbanged. Alexander was wheezing, face pressed between Leon’s heaving breasts, his hips still twitching. The burn and stretch of him in Leon’s ass singed at overworked walls, his fingers on Leon’s hypersensitive dick, and Leon thought, he couldn’t go another round.

Alright? He couldn’t.

And then his brain returned, Sure. Be a quitter. Have you figured out yet that you’re the person who’s going to have to shoot your boyfriend when he turns? The parasite will change him, but you’re the one that’s going to kill him. But, sure. If you’re satisfied, I guess this can be the last fucking time you ever touch him.

And, well, shit. Leon’s brain was right.

“Stay,” he croaked when he felt Alexander start to pull out. “Don’t move.”

Alexander stared at him, incredulous. He cleared his throat. “I think,” he gutturaled, “that I shall get us some water, some dark rye with ham, and then we will clean up and replace the sheets.”

“That’s too much effort,” Leon told him. “Don’t you want me anymore?” He clenched down, rolled his hips, and his body said _fuck, no more_ , but his brain was on a different wavelength. Even if it hurt, at least it meant they were alive.

He was almost terrified when he felt Alexander start to get hard again. They could have figured out this new trick last night if Leon had thought to try for a second round.

Except his lover pulled away. “Always,” he vowed. “I always want you. It is time to calm down, though. It is time to rest. If you want, you can sit on my cock again tonight while I read to you. You liked that.”

Leon had liked that.

“Okay,” he agreed. Alexander kissed one nipple, then the other, and then the dip of Leon’s clavicle. The kisses traveled up and up until they landed on Leon’s chapped and bruised lips, undemanding.

“That is a good boy,” Alexander murmured. He gave Leon’s thigh a light swat, still making the older man groan. “Get moving.”

They eventually crawled into a clean bed another hour later, hydrated and fed. Alexander gave himself a few pumps, Leon lubed up, and then he claimed his throne in one careful slide. He winced, sore as hell, and then settled. Just like the other night, Alexander pulled a quilt around him, tucked Leon in against his chest, and began to read over his shoulder.

Leon fell into an uneasy sleep.

~::~

He was in Spain, walking down the worn and dirty red carpet to the _Los Illuminados_ insignia set over the church’s alter. A Verdugo, that demented combination of insect, human, and Plaga, waited in front of the alter for him in a tuxedo. The tuxedo was filthy, caked in dirty and more holes than fabric, the kind of state a tuxedo would be in if you were buried in it fifty years ago.

Leon was wearing a tuxedo as well, new and clean. His hands were wrapped around a bouquet of dead weeds, held cocked by his head like a pistol. Cold puffs of air kept landing on the back of his neck, the undead so close that he felt their skeletal fingers grasping and pulling at his jacket. He did not see them, did not look back at them, and yet knew intimately that there were more of them than he could ever imagine defeating. Their groans and growls echoed in the church. The pews were empty to either side of him and yet he heard each zombie as if the church was full.

He was happy. Content.

Leon came to stand opposite the Verdugo. Except, it wasn’t a Verdugo.

Alexander watched him with hungry red eyes, icy pale and with protruding veins. He reached out and took Leon’s hands in his own, pulling Leon against him.

They were naked. Alexander was laying him on the alter, now as wide and soft as a bed, and Alexander was inside of him, groaning and growling, and they were married. They had been together for fifty years.

Alexander opened his mouth, a single Plaga egg on his tongue. Leon licked the egg into his own mouth and swallowed.

“You like bad boys,” Alexander reminded him. He pushed his hand into Leon’s stomach and pulled a fully grown Plaga out of him. He clenched his fist around the parasite and it flopped dead over his fingers.

Leon put his hand in the hole Alexander had created, rifling through as if it was a drawer and he was searching for something in the clutter. His body jolted with every one of Alexander’s thrusts.

He plucked his heart from his own chest and it was a single bullet. He gently put the bullet in Alexander’s mouth and then watched his lover’s head explode.

~::~

Leon came awake violently, arms swinging. He belatedly realized he was fighting his own sleeping lover when Alexander was successfully pushed off the bed.

He froze, horrified at what he had done.

On the floor, Alexander snorted, only then coming awake. He planted a hand on the bed and pulled himself partly up to look blearily at Leon. “I am awake, I am awake… Are we late?”

Oh, right. He was… He was a lot tougher now. Knives couldn’t stab him, why would getting punched a few times bother him?

“I’m sorry,” Leon croaked, still ashamed. “I… I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Ah.” Alexander rubbed his face and then ran a hand through his ruffled hair. He looked half-asleep still. “It is alright. I am fine. I am completely unharmed, _kotya_. Please, I am fine.”

Yeah, he was. For how much longer, though?

Alexander fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and groaned. “I _was_ fine. It looked like we are grabbing breakfast on the go today.” He got himself off the floor and leaned over the bed to kiss Leon. Alexander was that special kind of person who never seemed to have morning breath. He tasted sleepy, if such a thing were to have a taste – while it was Leon who tasted like a skunk first thing in the morning. Alexander scrunched his face up and suffered through the kiss with gusto.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Leon still apologized.

“I am not going to blame you for having nightmares and for defending yourself in your sleep,” Alexander told him sternly. “If it makes you feel any better, I forgive you.”

Leon stared at him, feeling hollow and tired. Alexander forgave him… this time. And in the future? That remained to be seen.

“Come. Up, up.” Alexander pulled him out of bed. “We will not be late. I have already missed two days this week.”

Leon squeezed Alexander’s hand in his own. “I love you,” he said, painfully. He suddenly realized that he did not say it enough. “I _love_ you.”

Alexander paused and gave him such a sad, broken look that Leon knew without a doubt that Alexander was also haunted by how little time he might have left. “I love you too, _kotya_ ,” he murmured raggedly. “Now, move your lazy American ass,” he joked, though it sounded fragile. “I am not teaching my students from this bed.”

“They would learn a lot.”

“They are not old enough to be watching porn, brat.”

“Prepare to be surprised.”

“Be. _Quiet_.”

~::~

When Rebecca finally showed up, Leon was a disaster. Alexander had gone into some meditative state of acceptance hours ago, staring determinedly at nothing as he sat at the dining room table. Leon sat at his desk next to the bay windows, staring outside. The knock came and Leon flinched every time that small fist hit the door.

Leon forced himself to answer it. “Rebecca,” he greeted softly… brokenly… His throat was tight.

He might be about to start crying.

 _Fuck_.

She smiled softly up at him, understanding. “Leon. It’s nice to see you again.”

Was it? They only ever seemed to meet when there was trouble.

“Sure,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy saving the world, but you know how it goes.”

Leon was trying to save his own world right now. A world that might be about to collapse in on itself, he thought.

Leon solemnly introduced Rebecca to his boyfriend. Alexander stood to shake her hand and her face lit up with delight. “Oh, he’s _handsome_ , Leon,” she teased. “And tall!”

Alexander chuckled with an edge of sadness. “Thank you for coming here, Dr. Chambers. I owe you a great deal.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” she muttered. With little more fanfare, she whipped a small plastic cup with a lid out of her medical bag and slapped it in Alexander’s hand. “I need you to go pee in this. Make sure it comes up to this – ” she pointed to a marker on the cup, “line. I want to get this over with as soon as possible so that we can figure out what to do next. If I need to, I can likely synthesize a cure – but that’s only if I need to. I’m not seeing any symptoms of a Plaga species Type 4 infection, and those symptoms should have occurred before any medical miracle. Once we rule out the Plaga, I can start figuring out how this,” and she gestured to Alexander’s… everything, “really happened.”

Leon stared at her, wide-eyed, as did Alexander. Her confidence in that this wasn’t related to the Plaga almost made Leon feel like a dumbass for thinking that it _was_ related to the Plaga.

When Alexander raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged cluelessly and then tilted his head toward the bathroom. Alexander gave the cup a grim look but wandered off to do his business all the same.

“You really think it’s not the Plaga?” Leon asked.

“I really don’t,” she assured him. “I’m not saying that it’s _nothing_ – especially with what you told me over the phone – but we’re going to rule out the Type 4 first before we start coming up with ideas.”

Alexander returned moments later with a full cup. Now Leon raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Alexander defended. “I was nervous!”

“I will take that!” Rebecca chirped, snapping on a pair of gloves and slipping on a lab coat. She snatched the cup from Alexander, put it down on the kitchen table – the Russian grimaced – and began spreading other instruments out on the surface. A microscope appeared with a box of slides, different types of testing strips, and an iPad among other things.

After she had arranged everything to her liking, she stepped back and smiled. Then she gave them an expectant look. “Why are you still here?”

“I… I live here,” Alexander told her, stressed.

“Well, go and do something,” she suggested. “Somewhere else. This shouldn’t take long, but I do best when I’m not being watched over.”

“Oh.” Alexander looked to Leon, wild-eyed.

Leon nodded. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Thank you again, Rebecca.”

“Really, Leon, you don’t need to thank me.”

Leon nudged Alexander’s knuckles with his own, then built up the courage to hold his hand in front of someone he actually knew and respected. Did anyone back in the States know that he was in a relationship? Claire, he thought. Of course he had told her. He kept meaning to tell Sherry, but had it ever actually come up in conversation?

Rebecca smiled so softly, as if she had just watched a frightened animal trust a person again for the first time in a long time. One of those videos that go like “After a hard life full of violence and abuse, this pit bull still learned to smile again thanks to his patient and caring human.”

That was a very specific expression.

Leon tugged Alexander back into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, just one space over from the kitchen whenever Rebecca was ready to give them her findings.

“Read to me?” Leon asked. The walls were thin. Would Rebecca be able to do her work to the sound of Alexander’s storytelling, accented and rich, doing voices for _Redwall_ characters?

Alexander looked at him with surprise. It was always Alexander who had to offer.

“Of course, _kotya_ ,” he answered just as quietly. They crawled into bed, Leon sitting up against the wall and Alexander bending his body awkwardly to use Leon’s chest as a pillow. He cracked open _Martin the Warrior_ and began to read.

~::~

**Alexander Kozachenko**

Leon came awake suddenly, silently, as there was a light knock on the bedroom door. Alexander could see his eyes open, hazy and sad.

Alexander had fallen quiet a few chapters ago once he realized Leon was asleep, his head still pillowed on his lover’s chest. At the knock, Alexander sat up, pressed a soothing kiss to Leon’s clenched jaw, and stood to his feet.

It was time to know the truth, for as well as a urine test could give them the truth.

He opened the door to Dr. Chambers smiling face.

“I will cut right to the point, you do not have a Plaga!”

At least, Alexander thought, not one that was reproducing.

Leon had planted his feet on the floor, still sitting on the bed. Alexander heard his explosive release of breath, relief making Leon’s shoulders sag. He hid his expression behind his hand, such a proud man and unwilling to show that he had been afraid. Alexander could not fault him for it because he was much the same.

Alexander did feel some relief of his own, only not to the extent that Dr. Chambers and _kotya_ appeared to. Perhaps he should trust them more – they were veterans on this subject. If Dr. Chambers said he did not have a Plaga, he would be wise to believe her.

And yet…

“Thank you, Dr. Chambers,” he told her with gratitude. She smiled sweetly and bobbled her head in turn.

“Of course, Alexander. If you don’t mind, though, could I do a physical examination of your skin?”

“Please,” he said, bowing his head toward the kitchen. “Lead the way.” The bed groaned as Leon moved to follow. His hand alighted on the small of Alexander’s back, lips at the nape of Alexander’s neck. A comfort. A small celebration just for them.

He took a seat at his own kitchen table as if was visiting a doctor’s office.

She trailed her fingers from his inner elbow to his inner wrist, analyzing him closely. Her touch was ticklish, admittedly, and yet also dull in that way touch had become to most of his body.

“I don’t even see any veins…” She shook her head. Her thumbs pressed down, rubbing deep to see if there was any give. Finding none, she attempted to pinch him and found that she could only grasp a miniscule amount of skin between her nails “At least there is some elasticity. I see what you mean, though. It’s as if there’s a shield right under the epidermal layer of skin.” She shook her head with wonder. “Okay. Let’s get that cheek swab.”

She pulled a tube out of her bag of miracles, uncapped it, and revealed a cotton swab. “Open, please.” She rubbed the swab hard over the inside of both his cheeks, put it in the tube, and recapped it. “Just to be safe…” She pulled out a second tube and redid the process. “There!”

She paused for a second, studying his face. Without warning, she pinched his cheek. “You have such a wide range of facial movement, and yet that… that _exoskeleton_ is here too.” She poked at his cheek, ignorant of Alexander’s offended expression. “That is so interesting!” 

“How long will it take to run the DNA test?” Alexander asked, sitting back in his chair and tilting his head away from her.

“Well, admittedly, I’m going to be busy when I get stateside. I will try to make it a priority, though! I think I will be able to take a look at what is going on with you at the genetic level within seven to fourteen days?”

“That is reasonable.” Alexander nodded. One to two weeks.

She began packing up her supplies. Alexander noticed that his urine sample also went into the bag and frowned deeply.

“ _Kotya_ ,” he began, “could you go to the grocery store and pick up some ingredients so that I may thank Dr. Chambers with an authentic Slavic meal? I will write them down for you.”

Leon was frowning at him, trying to understand what he was doing. Alexander stared calmly back. They shared a conversation without words. Leon knew without being told that Alexander wanted to speak privately with Dr. Chambers. Alexander knew that Leon did not want to be left out of whatever conversation they were going to have in his absence. It was in the eyes, the turn of the mouth, in Leon’s arms crossing over his chest and his feet shifting as if to brace himself for a fight. It was in the way Alexander gave him a pleading look and Leon at last sighed. Obviously not pleased, but at least willing.

“… Sure,” _kotya_ eventually agreed.

“I would love that,” Rebecca told him. She set her bag down in the living room, wiped down the kitchen table, and then washed her hands. By the time she had cleaned everything her equipment had touched, Leon was gone and they were alone.

Alexander put his tea kettle on. Behind him, a chair scraped the ground as Dr. Chambers took a seat. “You’re still worried, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I am walking. My skin is impenetrable. I feel perfectly fine, the healthiest I have ever been. And yet, there is no parasite.”

“That’s right.”

“There has to be _something_ ,” he growled, staring at the tea kettle. “I cannot just be fine without cause. I cannot be walking for no reason.”

“I know. There is something going on, I won’t lie to you. Your urine test wasn’t… exactly normal.”

His head whipped around. “ _What_?”

“There is no Plaga!” she repeated. “There is a strong concentration of… aggregation-sex pheromones. I can’t tell you exactly the name of the pheromones, but I can say with some certainty that they are not human.”

He took a slow, deep breath in… let it out slowly… and, no. No, he was not pleased. “I am urinating a pheromone meant to induce group formation and attract a mate.” His face was turned sharply down in displeasure.

“I would not suggest peeing outside anytime soon,” she said carefully.

“Duly noted.” He rubbed his forehead. “Not human…” He considered those words. “Dr. Chambers, am _I_ human?”

She bit her lip. “You’re stable,” she eventually answered. “Whatever you are right now, you’re not changing. I’ve only done a urine test, but I found no sign of disease, no evidence of infection, no blood… Your urine wasn’t even that concentrated. You are, in every sense of the word, healthy. In the presence of a Plaga, there would be signs of breakdown. Organ failure at the least. _Las Plagas_ , or at least every series before Type 4, can regrow their host’s limbs, and victims can host indefinitely without dying. However, every victim I have looked at throughout my career has shown liver failure, kidney failure, loss of bone density, low to negligible white blood cell counts… Yes, I specifically looked for evidence of egg production, but that’s only because it would be the most obvious sign to look for. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t look at everything else.”

She held her hands halfway across the table. Hesitantly, he sat down and rested his own hands in hers. She squeezed comfortingly and smiled, an angelic sight. “Alexander Kozachenko,” she announced with finality. “You are not becoming a monster. You are healthy, you are sane, and you are stable. If anything, your DNA can help us save lives in the future _if_ this has anything to do with the parasite that you _were_ infected with. I can’t say for sure, but, as you are right now, you could live a long, wholesome life.”

His jaw and chin trembled. Eyes glassy with emotion, he took his hands from her and returned to the kettle. It had just begun to whistle, a perfect distraction. “Thank you, Dr. Chambers,” he said hoarsely. “That is very good to hear.”

“You are very welcome. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but… was that you I heard reading _Redwall_?”

“Hah, yes. That was me.”

“You do great character voices! I almost got distracted listening you.”

“Thank you, it is part of being an English teacher. I must know how to keep my children involved.”

“I bet they adore you.”

“I adore them.” He poured hot water into two mugs. “Would you mind some peppermint or lavender?”

“Oooh, lavender, please!”

That night, after dinner, Alexander and Leon pushed together the sitting chairs in the living room and cushioned them as well as they could so that Rebecca would have a decent night’s rest before her flight in the morning.

Tumbling into their own bed, Alexander pulled Leon in for a kiss.

“I am fine,” he said, with honesty. “I am not going anywhere.”

Leon curled into him, his face hidden by the fall of his hair, by the curve of Alexander’s jaw. He said nothing, yet his hands were tellingly tight on Alexander’s arms, as if to stop him from leaving.

This man that Alexander loved – he understood loss. Their familiarity with loss was one of the things that had drawn them together as friends and later as lovers. Alexander had lost his childhood sweetheart, his students, his best friend, his family… all around him were graves. Graves erected by a corrupt government, by a civil war he had not started but had damned well helped in putting an end to.

Around Leon were the graves he himself had dug, he himself had filled, and he alone visited.

Loss was a damnably lonely thing.

And Leon was such a damnably lonely man.

“There you have it,” Alexander assured him. “You did everything right and I am still here.”

Leon shook his head, still stubbornly quiet.

“You did everything right. The Plaga is dead. _You_ killed it.”

“Then _why_ is this happening?”

“I do not know. What we do know is that this has nothing to do with you. Do you hear me, _kotya_?” Alexander nudged at his lover’s hair until the man looked at him. “I am alive.” He pressed his _kotya’s_ hand over his heart, as dull as it sounded through his armor, and yet still beating. “You are not the death of me.”

Leon sobbed, just once. He quickly grabbed control of his tears, but he could not stop the pain from screaming in those hazel eyes. The agent scoffed. “Not yet, anyway.”

Alexander was not given to lying on serious matters and so he did not say something useless such as ‘not ever’ because he could not see the future. Leon was a man with many enemies and Alexander considered himself to be loved by him. That made him a good target for those who would want to hurt the agent.

Instead, he said, “I love you,” and he kissed _kotya_ with a mouth that tasted like mouthwash and threw his leg over Leon’s waist to keep the man as close to him as possible without having sex with him.

Ah. About that. About _sex_.

Alexander pressed his lips to Leon’s jaw and whispered there, “I may or may not be urinating aggregation-sex pheromones.”

He could not see the man’s expression from his position of safety, and yet he felt it when the agent squinted at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that, if I were to ever urinate publicly, we should expect to draw in a crowd and possibly begin an orgy.”

“Oh, _God_.”

“Oh? Does that not sound fun to you?”

“Believe it or not, I like having you all to myself.”

“That is so sweet, and it makes my fantasy just now very awkward.”

“What the _hell_ , Sasha?”

“I am joking!” He was mostly joking. The image of Leon at the bottom of a pile of men and women, all of them focused on giving his lover the utmost of physical pleasure, got stuck behind his eyes.

Sasha rested his head on his pillow, Leon pulling himself into ball against his chest, and closed his eyes.

He saw that pile of men and women, tongues lashing at Leon’s body –

No, not men and women –

His Lickers, their tongues crawling and laving over Leon’s sweat-covered body –

And Leon was writhing beneath them, all of them, swarming him in numbers and with such energy that Alexander could not count them –

And Leon looked at him –

Tears in his eyes, face white with horror –

Blood bubbling on his lips, and the Lickers were not giving him pleasure, they were tearing him apart for their _own_ pleasure, as Alexander was telling them to, because Alexander wanted to see how absolutely gorgeous Leon’s insides looked –

Leon opened his mouth, his last dying breath –

“Monster.” Leon’s hazel eyes were suddenly bloodshot. His teeth were rotting as he hissed, hateful and unforgiving, “Monster.”

Alexander shot awake, jackknifing off the bed and landing on the floor. Leon was instantly awake, pistol in hand, safety off. There was a pause.

“Sasha?”

Alexander stayed on the floor, belly-down and braced on his palms. Oh, God. Oh, God…

“Sasha, talk to me.” Leon shuffled across the bed. “Are you alright?”

Alexander tilted his head up and there was the love of his life, unmolested and alive. His hazel eyes were dark with sleep, serious with concern.

There was for a time nothing to say. Alexander could not imagine telling Leon what nightmare had just infected his mind: Not only how he had orchestrated his lover’s rape using monsters, but how much he had _enjoyed_ it.

Leon eventually, and quietly, put the gun away. He grabbed a pillow in one hand, their blanket in the other, and came to lay on the hardwood floor next to him. His _kotya_ wrapped the blanket around them both, put the pillow down, and drew Alexander back into his arms.

“Nightmares,” Leon said. “I hate those.” He pressed a kiss to Alexander’s forehead. “You want to talk about it?”

“No! No, no… No, I would… I would never like to talk about it.”

“Don’t I know that feeling well.”

“I never ask about your nightmares.”

“You used to. I never wanted to talk about them.”

“Would you like to talk about yours now?”

“Never. I would never like to talk about them.”

“In your dreams, do I…” Alexander licked his lips. “Do I hurt you?”

Leon was quiet for far too long. “You know, it honestly feels like I hurt myself in my dreams. Do I hurt you in your dreams?”

Alexander thought of Leon’s infected eyes, his zombie mouth, the utterance of “Monster” more powerful than a gunshot. “Usually, no,” he decided to say. “In my dreams, you are usually very nice to me.”

Leon chuffed. “Oh, yeah?” His hands came up, one cradling the back of Alexander’s head and the other scratching through his short hair. “Feel like talking about those?”

“Not with company in our home, absolutely not.” He lowered his voice. “However, if I _were_ to talk about them, you should know that there is often a clown costume involved.” He was absolutely making this up. His dreams of Leon tended to be quite tame, and dangerously domestic. In his dreams, they were married and there were children and Leon laughed. In his dreams, Alexander got to introduce Leon to Irina, to his family, to his friends, all who were dearly departed. Very rarely were Alexander’s dreams sexual in nature, and they most certainly never involved clown costumes.

It was simply easier to joke than to let himself be haunted by a nightmare.

“Mm, sexy,” Leon mused.

“Oh, you think so? Do clowns arouse you?”

“You do and that’s about the same thing, right?”

“You sonofab-”

“Sshh, shhh…” Leon petted him, forcibly mashing Alexander’s face between his breasts. “Go to sleep, Chuckles.”

Alexander gave one nipple a punishing bite, delighted when Leon jerked against him and gasped. “Who is laughing now?” And then he squeaked at an embarrassingly high pitch as a hand squeezed around his penis.

“I am.” Leon purred. “Don’t start something you don’t want Rebecca to hear.”

Alexander immediately began to plot his revenge. In the morning, they would send Dr. Chambers off in a taxi. She would be gone an hour before he was set to be at school. It was a twenty-minute walk from his apartment to the school. They would require a shower and breakfast before they left.

Sasha decided he would spend at least ten minutes before work starting and _finishing_ what he did not want Dr. Chambers to hear once she was safely away. He was going to share a fantastic morning with Leon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, honesty hour - it has actually been YEARS since I last watched Resident Evil: Damnation. I have been debating buying it so I can watch it again, but then I decided to watch some clips on Youtube. Y'all, I forgot that Alexander actually has really light, kind of grey eyes, just, completely beautiful eyes. And yet, throughout my entire story, I call them dark and brown-black. It is too late for me to back down now, but, I want you to know, I deeply regret forgetting what color his eyes are. ALSO, his town is actually very packed. I forgot about just how NOT rural it actually was, even though it is surrounded by beautiful mountains. So... Just... pretend that I'm right, but I'm actually wrong about a few things. I really need to watch the movie again. I forgot that the first time Leon actually meets him, Alexander puts a knife to his neck. This is how Leon makes friends, I guess, with knife fights.


	4. Decide How You Want It To Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALWAYS REMEMBER that, when a section begins with Terse Dolence, YOU ARE IN FOR A BAD TIME. I write his character and I write him purposely misgendering trans men - Leon in particular - and I think, even as I write as Dolence, "Him, him, him, he, he, he, he, HIM, HIM, HE, HE". As always, he liked to think about rape and being transphobic, though he never thinks about it as if he is the bad guy. Just... remember that. He's an asshole and he dies in the end.

**Rebecca Chambers**

_Los Illuminados_ had been able to create human-animal hybrids with _Las Plagas_ by using viral plasmids to transfer genetic information. _Los Illuminados_ had used this technique to create specific characteristics in some Plagas, eventually leading to the Novistador, the Verdugo, and the U-three.

When _Los Illuminados_ had genetically engineered the Queen Plaga, the Recessive Plagas, and the Dominant Plagas from the spores they had uncovered in the caves – and the subsequently infected excavators who had breathed in the spores – they had not taken into account what would happen if any of _Las Plagas_ escaped. Which the Plagas did after their failed plot to infect the First Daughter. Of course, the surviving villagers attempted to hunt down _Las Plagas_ to their last parasite, but these creatures were fast and secretive and were not so easily extinguished or caught, which was one of the reasons it had taken Dolence almost four years to get his hands on a single Plaga. _Los Illuminados_ had assured him that, in the absence of a Queen Plaga, his Dominant Plaga would change into a Queen. While Recessive Plagas were capable of asexually reproducing, one could not get a Dominant Plaga from a Recessive Plaga; only a Queen Plaga could produce a Dominant Plaga, as Dominant Plagas were sterile themselves. Dolence did not know this, but the term for that was “sequential hermaphroditism” and referred to an animal that began as one sex and then later switched to the opposite sex, whether as a life stage or due to environmental circumstances.

The irony of having an animal in his collection that was one gender at birth and a different gender later in life when he himself did not _believe_ that someone could be transgender was lost on him.

 _Los Illuminados_ had been true to him – his single Dominant Plaga became Queen and began asexually reproducing. Dolence allowed the population of Recessive Plaga to grow while only keeping a handful of Dominant Plaga.

What _Los Illuminados_ did not know was that the Plaga they gave to the American – and they gave it to him believing that he would not know what he was getting himself into, that the Plaga would lead to his agonizing death, and they waited patiently for news of Senator Terse Dolence perishing and unleashing _Las Plagas_ inside of America – had been genetically altered with the DNA of a diabolical ironclad beetle, known to have the hardest exoskeleton of all insects.

The cult did not make this realization because the Plaga neglected to develop the exoskeleton and it was believed that the splicing had been a failure. They had been wrong – the genes in control of exoskeleton formation and development had simply been repressed.

When a Dominant species Plaga was introduced to the leftover DNA of a previous, defective Dominant species Plaga Type 4 in Alexander, those repressed genes were turned “on”. Alexander entered a pupal stage where he became a chrysalis and, in very short order, a layer of incredibly dense – and, luckily for Alexander, elastic, and it was lucky because an inelastic exoskeleton would have required him to molt at some point in his life – chitin formed between the epidermal and dermal layers of his skin.

Externally, he looked very human. This was an example of mimicry. Mimicry was when two organisms resembled one another without being closely related, such as the harmless Viceroy butterfly that looked almost identical to the toxic Monarch butterfly. In the case of the Viceroy butterfly, mimicking the Monarch protected it from predators. In the case of the Plagas, well…

Nothing was more dangerous than a human.

A single DNA test would have revealed that Alexander was a _very_ changed man at the genetic level. However, Dr. Rebecca Chambers had to break her promise, as awful as it made her feel. She had to prioritize a different matter over understanding exactly what was going on with Alexander Kozachenko.

~::~

BSAA Captain Chris Redfield found her in her lab, just as she was sitting down with her coffee and trying to stay awake through jet lag.

“I have something important that I have to talk to you about,” he told her solemnly. Worried, she offered him a seat and pushed her refrigerated bag under her desk and away from sight. She moved to the seat directly next to his instead of staying behind her desk. She considered them friends and he seemed somewhat upset.

“1998, you claimed that the prisoner Billy Coen was killed during transport in Raccoon Forest by a pack of Cerberus,” he began.

Rebecca’s heart tripped. She kept her hands folded in her lap, controlled her breathing, and yet she felt her palms grow damp. Her eyes slid away from Chris’s. She tried to recall the story she had given more than twenty years ago. “Yes,” she answered softly. “He was dead when my team found him…”

Her thoughts were jumbled, were chaotic, were _worried_. Had Billy been caught? Now, twenty years later? Or had he never escaped Raccoon Forest by himself and someone had found his remains? After all, Rebecca had thought she was safe after they separated, only to get stuck in a _different_ mansion with _different_ monsters. If it had not been for Chris and Jill, she would have perished all that time ago.

Rebecca had only known Billy for one night, as a necessary ally and as a friend, as someone she fought and killed for, and someone who had fought and killed for her. They had not had time for romance, had certainly not been intimate in any way, and yet she thought of Billy often. Had he not been on death row for a crime he hadn’t committed, could they have stayed together? Could they have become something? The possibility haunted her sometimes when she felt particularly lonely. She had only been eighteen then, and he had been older by years, but she had judged her every lover – male and female – by him. He had practically been a stranger and could have left her for dead more than once, could have escaped without her, and yet he had chosen, over and over again, to come to her aid. Rebecca had ended several relationships when she realized that none of her boyfriends or girlfriends could ever be that selfless.

With the threat of execution if he stayed, Billy had still done everything in his power to make sure that they _both_ got away from that train, that mansion, that research facility – all of it.

Rebecca jolted back to the present at the touch of Chris’s hands on hers. He was studying her sympathetically.

“Are you sure he was dead?” he asked, which…

Which did not help her nerves at all. She wished she still had Billy’s dog tags, but Arias had taken them from her when she had been stripped down and forced into a wedding dress. At least Arias had died without telling anyone she had had those.

Chris continued. “We believe he somehow survived and then was abducted by Umbrella. Given that he was to be executed but was presumed dead due to your testimony, it seems he made a good candidate for their Tyrant project.”

“W-what?” Her voice was a thread of sound. Very suddenly, her entire body felt numb.

Chris nodded just once. “I had some men doing recon in an Umbrella facility down in Texas. The place has been abandoned for years and stripped down to its bones. We believe that any personnel left behind after Umbrella fell cut their losses and ran for it. Several likely put up their research on the black market for a quick profit. We found a file with Billy Coen’s information in it… and these.” Chris pulled away so he could retrieve something from his pockets.

Rebecca was spiraling into a panic attack, breathing hard and fast and feeling deprived of oxygen. Or maybe that was only in her head. If she was about to pass out, Chris did not seem to notice.

She watched, unblinking and wide-eyed, as he pulled out a photo. It was of a large capsule with a scale drawn on the image to one side. Based on the scale, the capsule had to be, from floor to top, fourteen feet tall. There was a creature floating inside of it, the tube part of the capsule eleven feet tall. The creature took up most of the space, its features vague through a darkly colored bio-organic fluid.

Chris held the photo out to her, and she belatedly realized there was more than one, that it was a stack. Her hands shook as she took them from him. They slipped from her unsteady fingers and scattered across the floor.

She saw Billy’s face, mutating. She saw a Tyrant staring blankly into the camera. She saw Billy, still human, strapped unconscious to a lab table and attached to too many IV bags to count.

She saw enough to know that this was no mistake. Billy Coen had been caught by Umbrella, and he had been changed into a monster.

Chris got down on one knee to pick up each photo, moving carefully. He appeared to have a question but took his time to formulate it.

“You seem very upset about this,” he murmured.

Rebecca flinched. “I – I, I was a field medic,” she choked, tears on her eyelashes. “I had lost so many lives that night, I, I – ” No, she thought hysterically to herself. That was a bad lie, as she had claimed that Billy was dead. She tried to throw out a different lie, but she had already lost it.

She sobbed, arms coming around herself as her shoulders shook. Chris rested a comforting hand on her knee, gently shushing her in the way a big brother would for their little sister.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “We don’t know where he – it – is right now. For all we know, it was destroyed.”

“I-it?”

No, no, no, that was Billy. Billy wasn’t an _it_.

Chris put the photos facedown on the chair he had been sitting in. “It’s clear to see that you are very upset about this convict still existing, even if it’s not Billy anymore. I don’t know what that bastard did to you that night, and I’m not going to make you tell me, but I want you to know that I will do everything I can to destroy what’s left of him so that you never have to worry about him coming after you, especially as a BOW.”

In a flash of dread, she saw Billy Coen through Chris’s eyes: A man who had been convicted and sentenced to death for the murder of twenty-three villagers on the continent of Africa. He didn’t know that Billy had been framed for the crimes of his unit, he didn’t know that Billy had been – though arrogant – an essential part of her surviving that night of hell.

In his mind, he saw a war-hardened criminal who had found an eighteen-year old rookie in the middle of a disaster and had taken advantage of her. What did Chris think? Did he think that Billy had forced himself on her? That he’d threatened her? Did he think that Rebecca had been relieved to see Billy “die” –

Rebecca had claimed Billy had been dead from the very beginning, though. Based on her testimony, there would have been no opportunity for Billy to assault her.

Her mouth worked wordlessly, a tear shivering down her cheek, and she could only stare without understanding at the BSAA captain.

He took a deep breath. “You lied about him being killed in transport,” he told her. “You don’t have to tell me what happened to him. You don’t owe me an explanation. If you want to talk to me about it, we can talk about it, off the books, and no one has to know the truth. Whatever you did to get away from him, I’m proud of you for doing what you had to do.”

There it was.

Chris had created some series of events in his head where Rebecca had been victimized by Billy. And then… what? She had escaped him? In Chris’s mind, did he think she had lied about Billy’s death because she had been too ashamed to admit the truth?

Rebecca’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she saw the conclusion Chris had come to.

No, he thought Rebecca had killed Billy. Or, given that Billy obviously hadn’t died that night, he thought Rebecca had tried.

To Chris, Billy had already been a scumbag on death-row – he was willing to help her cover up her crime if it meant keeping her safe.

And yet, Rebecca could not handle the insult to her friend, to a man she hadn’t seen in more than twenty years.

“He _didn’t_ hurt me!” she hissed, launching herself up from her seat and away from Chris. “Do you want to talk about it, Chris? Do you _really_ want to talk about it? Because the truth is that you have _no idea_ what happened!” Another sob broke free of her. “He _protected_ me! He saved my life. If It wasn’t for him, I would have died that night!”

“That didn’t give him the right to – ”

“He didn’t _do_ anything!” she yelled, and it was always a bad sign with tiny Dr. Rebecca Chambers started yelling. “God, though, I have spent _years_ wishing that he had.” She cupped her hand over her mouth, crying in earnest. “I, I lied for him because he didn’t deserve to die! He didn’t _do_ it, Chris! The twenty-three murders. He _told_ me he didn’t do it.”

“And you believed him?”

“You don’t know what he did for me,” she hissed. “You don’t know how far he went to protect me! Yes, I believed him, because there was no point in lying.” Trembling, she darted to Chris’s seat and took the photos in her hand, tearing them to pieces. “He saved my life!” she whispered hoarsely, barely louder than the sound of shredding. “And I – I gave him straight to Umbrella, oh, _God_ …” In a fit of rage, she threw the decimated images at the ground.

A Tyrant’s face landed right-side up, staring at her coldly.

She dropped to her knees.

“Rebecca…”

Hesitantly, Chris crouched next to her. Every move slow and careful, as if approaching an injured beast, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “I’m sorry.”

“Bi-ill-lly!” she sobbed. “No-o-o-o…” Life had been good, if not lonely, thinking that he was alive and well somewhere in the world.

Except he never had been. He hadn’t even gotten out of the country before his life had taken another turn for the worse.

“I have to find him,” she gasped. She clenched her hands around Chris’s arm. “I have to find him. I can, I can do something. Please, I can make this better.”

How? She had never synthesized a cure for this, for a _Tyrant_. After the drastic mutations a Tyrant underwent, she was positive that there was no cure. Especially after all this time.

Dr. Rebecca Chambers had never been a quitter. Now, when she had something to lose, she had to be her bravest and most daring.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Chris all but begged. “Let the BSAA take care of this. Now that I know… what I know… I’ll try to put him out of his misery when we find him.”

At least Billy was a _him_ again and not an _it_.

“No.” She gave the man a fierce look. “You will bring him _here_ to _me_ and let me do my job!”

Chris was reasonably terrified. “I don’t know – ”

“That’s _right_. You _don’t_ know, so do not think to tell me what to do and what not to do. This is not your lab and I am not under your command, do you understand?”

He choked. “Okay, okay, okay… Whatever you say.”

“If – when – you find him, give him to me. At, at the very least, I can… study him. Help us understand Tyrants better.” She could make the remainder of his existence comfortable, she thought. She could keep him close and safe.

He would have gone to the ends of the world to keep her safe, she knew.

She only glanced at the bag under her desk. Alexander was fine, she reassured herself with some guilt. Maybe, if she got a moment, she could load up his DNA and start building a genome. Finding and helping Billy though, she decided, took precedence.

Alexander was stable, she reminded herself. Whatever had happened to make him change, he wasn’t going to keep changing. They didn’t _need_ her.

Billy did.

~::~

**Terse Dolence**

Dolence had successfully infected the zombie dogs, the zombie wolves, the Whoppers, and the Lickers with the Recessive species Plaga. He had mastered the art of commanding them, not with words as he had foolishly believed at first, but with _sound_ , sound that he emitted at such a frequency that it went unheard by everyone else. Everyone but him and his pets.

But the Tyrant…

That was a different story.

The eggs would not take. The monster simply destroyed any fully grown Recessive Plagas they released into its containment cube.

How had others controlled this beast? Sadly, Dolence hadn’t gotten an instruction manual with the BOW.

It simply stood in its cube, watching him. He decided that he despised this pet in his collection and had considered having it demolished several times. And yet, the sheer _power_ of the creature kept him from issuing its destruction.

After all, if he could not control it, then neither could the liberals. He would simply have to be careful when using the Tyrant.

He left the BOW to its never-ending staring and sauntered over to the bloated zombies called Whoppers. Kint had gained two companions in the past year. All of them had been confused women, all of them had claimed that Dolence had raped them. They had been very disturbed. He honored the memory of them by keeping their birth names on a plaque attached to the cube.

The pride he felt whenever he read the plaque was akin to another man boasting about their largest trophy kill. Although, Dolence would never think of it that way.

Dolence had considered using this treatment on all the confused women who continued to call him a rapist. It seemed that they had forgotten, after the fact, their vocal and physical consent to his special brand of therapy for their kind. And yet, he had to be careful moving forward about how often he used the C-Virus gas on these individuals. He had noticed that several hypotheses had been floating around – rumors told by mouth, online, in the news – that _he_ had something to do with their disappearances. After all, they had all been very outspoken with their lies, had discussed rape kits and photos taken unwillingly of them during the act. Understandably, the timing of them going missing was suspicious.

Dolence had plans for his future and unfounded claims that he was a murderer were not going to help him achieve those plans. Sadly, it was not as if he could tell the truth – that they were, in fact, still alive. They just so happened to be contained in his garage and were his pets.

No, that would not go over well.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that the Tyrant had turned in its cube to watch him. The intelligence in its dark, icy gaze was discomforting to the senator. This creature had to be the smartest pet in his collection.

Dolence pondered again the merits of watching it die versus watching it kill.

It was a difficult choice.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

It was December of 2020 and DSO agent Scott Kennedy had just been granted a nine-day vacation by the current President of the United States.

“Senator Dolence didn’t want me to tell you it was his idea, but I thought it was just really nice of him to speak up for you personally,” the president told him, the smile on his face demented.

They both knew that Leon had voted Democratic and that Leon was counting down the days to President-elect Alexis Gomez taking over on January 20th, 2021.

“Wasn’t that nice of him?” President Smith asked him. “That was nice of him.”

Leon kept his silence.

To be honest, though, he found that incredibly suspicious. Although the DSO dealt with bioterroristic threats, Leon had begun a side investigation into the Republican senator. Currently, six trans men in the past five years had accused the senator of rape and three had recently vanished. Since 2018, Dolence had started purposely and _often_ misgendering Leon whenever the two met. Fortunately, there was very little reason to see the senator ever, but even the handful of times Leon had so much as walked by Dolence in the corridors of the white house over the senator’s entire career had become a test in his self-control.

Quite frankly, Leon was somewhat concerned that he was going to go missing next.

The fact that the president – for now – was telling him that Dolence had pushed for Leon to have a vacation a month before president-elect Gomez was to be sworn in and Dolence was to be switched out with his liberal opponent made him very uncomfortable.

This wasn’t right.

“You should thank him,” Smith all but hissed.

Leon missed President Graham some days more than others, and he missed him most of all when Leon was forced to listen to President Smith speak for longer than two minutes.

“When does this vacation start?” Leon chose to ask.

At the least, he could try and figure this out with his boyfriend for company. There was no way Leon was getting close to Dolence anytime soon, not without probable cause. Between Smith supporting Dolence and Dolence being an American senator, any attempt to infiltrate the man’s property or person for more information was just going to end badly for Leon. In Eastern Slav Republic, though, he could dig into the many news articles and databases at his disposal to try and get a better understanding of the senator. Alexander could help Leon understand the senator’s public financial records as Leon wasn’t strong in that forte. He heard that the records had been confounding journalists for years; chunks of money were missing and yet no one could figure out where the money was going. Every cent was accounted for in paying for Dolence’s sprawling estate, he had no offshore bank that anyone knew of, he paid his taxes – shockingly – and his staff was well compensated. The single working theory was that he used the missing finances as hush money for his victims and that was why the victims had gone “missing”: They had simply moved away with their newfound wealth and started new lives. However, Leon had his ear to the local investigation into Marcus Trevue’s disappearance and the police had found his bank account to be all but depleted. If Trevue had been given hush money and then disappeared to live a luxurious life in a new place, it was not with his current bank. His girlfriend swore up and down, however, that Trevue would never do such a thing.

A vacation, Leon decided, was a good time to really study the mystery of Senator Terse Dolence.

“Consider yourself a free person on Tuesday,” Smith told him.

This coming Tuesday was December 15th. Leon’s eyes narrowed warily on Smith.

Leon’s proposed vacation period would take place right over Dolence’s Winter Holiday Celebration. Dolence was known for his social gatherings, especially because of his ballroom and in-home theater. However, _this_ party was of special note to Leon because the Republican senator had deemed to only extend an invitation to, of all people, members of the Democrat majority in the House of Representatives. This had been a noteworthy scandal in social media, one that Fox News said showed how Dolence was willing to put aside his differences to make peace with the liberals. Of the more than two hundred blue representatives, perhaps an eighth had accepted their invitation as a sign of good will. More than half had already declined, much to the relief of their supporters and the indignant rage of almost everyone else. The red representatives were morally offended that Dolence had not extended an invitation to them, although Dolence had sent out word that there would be a New Years Bash in January in which he would invite the red representatives.

Leon did not like this situation at all. That party was set to happen on December 16th. The timing made him uncomfortable for reasons he could not yet name. He had no desire to go to the party, had definitely not been invited, but he now felt _personally_ blocked from attending. Being Leon, that meant he had a sudden desire to attend. He abated as he considered how much _more_ he did not want to see Dolence in the flesh. He would rather do research in Eastern Slav Republic.

He could hop on a flight after work on Monday. Alexander would still have classes, but Leon could accompany him or wait at home to do his own research while Alexander taught.

“Can’t wait,” Leon drawled.

Smith waited for Leon’s unending gratitude.

He didn’t get it.

~::~

Friday night, December 11th, Leon called Alexander and told him the news.

“That was… kind,” the Russian said with obvious confusion. “There are people in your government capable of kindness?”

“Yeah, I don’t trust it either,” Leon muttered. “You wouldn’t mind some company, would you?”

He could hear the smile in Alexander’s answer, “Anyone’s company? No, I am not in the mood. _Your_ company? I suppose I could make an exception.”

“Wow, I feel special.”

“You should.” And then, more seriously, “I look forward to seeing you, _kotya_.”

Leon closed his eyes. It had been a very long year and he hadn’t had the time to see Alexander since the scare they had back in October of 2019. It had been a year plus two months. 

“I miss you,” he admitted.

“I miss you too.”

Perhaps this was the real reason Leon was so willing to take the vacation. It had been many lonely months without his lover, even though they called and messaged regularly.

Leon’s hand rubbed over his abs. “Will you show me how much you miss me?” he asked in a low voice. Alexander groaned.

“When you get here,” he promised. “I will even take Tuesday off to be _very_ thorough in showing you just how much I have missed you.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I love you, _kotya_. Four more days.”

“Back at you, Sasha,” he said, like a bastard. To Alexander’s scoff, he ended the call.

Maybe he should apply for dual citizenship. Maybe he should just move to Eastern Slav Republic entirely. The longer he knew Sasha, the longer they were in a relationship, the more the other man felt like home.

Being in the States without him just felt like being alone.

~::~

**Terse Dolence**

Dolence had been delighted to find out that Alexander could walk again. It meant he could give chase. It meant he could stand on his own two feet, bear down on the agent, he could tower over her and make her feel small and weak. Make her feel like a woman.

He was excited when Greury gave him the news that she was on the flight already to Eastern Slav Republic. It was only Monday night.

He remembered the commands he had installed in Alexander more than a year ago. Now that he had more experience with _Las Plagas_ , he felt uncertainty that Alexander would follow those commands. He was irate at the thought that he might have had to sweet talk President Smith into giving her a vacation where her behavior was not punished or corrected, but _enabled_.

A part of him, though… wished it could be him to show the agent a lesson. Perhaps he spent some time considering what it would be like to strip her of those boyish clothes and remind her what being a woman meant himself. No, it was true – he was somewhat glad that the commands might not have taken after all, despite all of effort and resources he went through. The more he saw the agent, the more he learned, the more he felt like a jealous lover.

Dolence experienced regret. He had been too hasty, he decided. He should have had that independent contractor bring him the agent instead. He could have put the Recessive species Plaga in her first, before she could ever know that he had them. Then he could have made her enjoy his manly affections. He could have made her submit without lifting a finger, could have watched those pretty hazel eyes go dark and obedient –

Dolence was breathing hard, his slacks tented, and what he truly wanted was that agent there with him, on her knees in front of him, and he wanted her naked and humbled.

Well.

Someday, she would return to the States – a broken woman if the commands _had_ somehow stuck, or refreshed from time with her enabler. In both scenarios, she would be too late to stop his plans, though early enough to recognize the signs.

Injured or not, he planned to have the agent as his own. He did not mind that she would be sloppy seconds. He was quite accepting like that.

He set a timer on his iPhone for twenty-one hours. It would be approximately three in the afternoon in Eastern Slav Republic when she was set to arrive at her lover’s apartment, give or take an hour depending on the ETT of the flight she picked and the taxi she took once there.

“3:00,” he muttered to himself. “Then we will know if Kozachenko… _retained_ everything I told him.” He smiled at Greury, who was very quiet these days.

He had taken well to the Recessive species Plaga. Dolence had never doubted his loyalty to begin with, but it had felt appropriate to give his guard and confidante this gift.

He felt that Greury agreed.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

It was 3:01 PM when Leon unlocked Alexander’s apartment door on December 15th. He was exhausted from the flight.

It was, perhaps, for that reason that he was taken by surprise when a solid weight crashed into him, pushing him up against the door as soon as he entered the unit. A startled grunt left him, quickly swallowed by harsh lips. Hands were on his hips and dragging up under his shirt. Fingers snuck beneath the band of his sports bra and fondled his nipples.

Leon sagged into the embrace, kissing back, hands rising and tangling in dark, thick hair. A knee pushed between his thighs and he allowed himself to grind down on Alexander’s leg, his body waking up and coming around to the idea of some reunion sex.

With a slick sound of wet lips sliding apart, Alexander nuzzled under Leon’s jaw. “Hello, _kotya_ ,” he welcomed hoarsely. “Did you know that I have missed you?”

“No,” Leon drawled. “Never occurred to me.”

Alexander chuckled. “I must stop being subtle, then.” He turned his face once more for kisses, his hands falling down to Leon’s hips so he could lead them both to the bedroom. “I have missed you,” he repeated again. “You feel so _good_.”

Leon whined. “You do too,” he admitted. “Fuck, you too.” He wrapped his arms around Alexander’s shoulders and jumped, wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist. Alexander, not expecting his weight, tumbled into a wall and barely stopped them from falling. He laughed and groped Leon’s ass as he hoisted him closer. “You,” he huffed, “are _heavy_.”

“It’s the weight of responsibility I carry everywhere with me.”

“I am not surprised.”

Leon, now a head taller, had to bow down to keep kissing his lover. Alexander blindly stumbled the last few steps into the bedroom and then let them fall sideways onto the bed. Leon rolled away for a moment, just to grab the lube –

It was already there on top of the bedside table, along with _Outcast of Redwall_ , the fifth published book in the Redwall series.

Alexander’s mouth trailed over his neck, behind his ear, along the arc of his cheek. “ _Kotya_?”

Leon grabbed the lube. “I’m here,” he said. He wanted to say “I love you,” and he also wanted to say, “You’re home to me,” and yet he wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable. He turned into Alexander’s embrace, pushing the lube into his hand, and then crawled off the bed to strip.

“Go slow,” Alexander purred. He laid on his back and then pushed himself up to his elbows, watching with a leer. “I would like to enjoy the view.”

“So would I,” Leon returned, giving Alexander’s clothes a meaningful look.

It was in record time that they were naked and Leon was again laying on the bed. He had one hand clenched in Alexander’s hair, the other in the pillow, and Alexander was making sure he hadn’t forgotten any of Leon’s favorite tricks as he went down on the agent –

Wow, the bed was so comfortable. It smelled like Alexander. Leon turned his nose toward the pillow. Alexander always smelled spicy. Safe.

The next thing Leon knew, he was waking up under the covers and Alexander was grading papers next to him.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “Did I fall asleep? During _sex_?”

Alexander _laughed_ at him.

“I don’t see how you find that funny,” Leon groused. “I really doubt you felt complimented when you realized your technique put me to sleep.”

That made Alexander sober up. “You impudent _American_ ,” he hissed, truly offended. “I can make you orgasm with my hands behind my back!”

“Prove it, you coward,” Leon growled, absolutely knowing that Alexander was right and simply wanting to benefit from the challenge.

His lover huffed and moved all the papers into a pile on the bedside table. With that neatly put aside, he disappeared under the blankets. Leon felt Alexander’s hands on his knees, pulling them apart and toward his waist, spreading Leon open.

“Hands behind your back,” Leon purred. “Remember?”

Alexander scoffed and the hands moved away. His mouth, however, was very close…

Leon pushed the blankets down for the simple joy of watching his lover go to town on his cunt.

Alexander gave him a warning look, though without heat. “Try to stay awake this time.”

“Mm… No promises. Guess you’re going to have to give me a reason to – aa – uu… Okay… Okay, I’m… I’m awake… I’m… _yesss_.”

Alexander truly could get Leon off with his hands behind his back. He proved it _twice_.

~::~

The next day, Alexander brought Leon to school. The students had heard the legend of Alexander’s American boyfriend and practically lost their shit when he started talking to them. He got the usual questions – was he a movie star? Did he know them? What was his favorite movie? Cheeseburgers or pizza?

A night with Alexander had made him loose and happy, almost smiling as he patiently and carefully answered each student. He stood leaning against Alexander’s desk, the teacher himself writing down some of the things being said on the whiteboard that he felt were good practice for his children.

In the back of his mind, though, Leon was thinking about Dolence. Why had he pushed the President of the United States – currently – into giving him a vacation? Knowing that both of them had lost to their democratic opponents and that they had a month left to use their positions of power to their utmost potential, why had Dolence spoken up for Leon? He thought of Leon as “a confused woman” and had told many people this. Even if Leon himself rarely saw the senator, people talked.

The DSO had always known he was trans, him having been an agent during his transition, and were… strangely up in arms for him, insulted by the senator and his supporters that refused to acknowledge Leon’s gender.

It was the most accepted Leon had ever felt in his workplace – and he had been working for the government for almost two decades.

Dolence was not a kind man. He had victimized men just like Leon, had victimized the LGBTQIA+ community entirely with his state policies and position in the Senate. He wasn’t doing this _for_ Leon, he wouldn’t just give Leon time off because _Leon_ deserved it…

He was scheming something. Leon felt sure it had something to do with his party.

The more Leon thought about it, the more he realized that leaving the States had been a poor choice. He had had the chance to see Alexander again for the first time in more than a year, though, and he had reasoned with himself until it seemed acceptable to jump on the first flight to Eastern Slav Republic.

Sentiment could get someone hurt, he thought. Why did the senator want him on vacation?

After school, he and Alexander walked down to the grocery store. Alexander held a tangerine in each hand against his chest, giving them a considering glance and then Leon’s chest. “Perfect size,” he decided, and Leon scoffed.

“They’re not that small,” he grumbled.

Except they absolutely were and that was why Leon was almost always comfortable with just a sports bra instead of a binder. If anything, the tangerines were still too big.

Alexander grinned. He rubbed his thumbs over where the broken-off stems were on the tangerines and Leon, like a Pavlovian response, felt his own nipples prickle.

“Fucking asshole,” he hissed, and Alexander cackled.

“Mr. Kozachenko!” a young voice squealed. Alexander _jumped_. A tangerine flew out of his hand while he hid the other one behind his back, spinning in a circle to acknowledge a child Leon had saw earlier in one of Sasha’s classes.

Leon caught the airborne tangerine, smirking. The child spoke with Alexander for only a moment – “Do you like my shoes, Mr. Kozachenko? They are new shoes. Are they cute?” – before she was called back to her mother.

Alexander turned to Leon, face flushed red.

“You know what that’s called?” Leon drawled. “It’s called karma.” He leaned in close so that they would not be overhead. “Be a dick again and see what happens.”

“Sounds fun,” Alexander rumbled. He took the tangerine from Leon, a few more from the stand, and put them in their own bag. “Seems like you want me to keep being a dick.”

“Hah hah,” Leon mocked, lip peeled back to show teeth. He was not amused.

He was… he was a little bit amused.

Not that Alexander had to know that.

~::~

After dinner that night, Leon helped Alexander grade papers. Or, at least, he tried to. The problem was that Alexander did not trust Leon with grading, and so he double-checked Leon’s work to make sure the agent was being fair with his primary school students. Leon kept helping anyway because the concentrated furrow Alexander got between his brows, his serious glower, and the press of his lips when he was focused, were altogether unreasonably sexy to him.

Leon pressed a kiss to his lover’s cheek, distracting Alexander from grading mode. “What was that for?” He gave Leon a curious look.

“Because I can.”

“Oh, well. You can do much more than that.”

Which was how they moved to one of the other chairs in the living room. Leon got on his knees between Alexander’s spread thighs and put his mouth and hands to work. Alexander petted him gently as Leon sucked and bobbed, never pulling or pushing. Leon liked it rough in bed, but he hated choking. He didn’t want a near-death experience while getting fucked when he had more than enough of those on the job.

“So good, _kotya_ ,” Alexander groaned. He stroked his thumb where Leon’s mouth was stretched wide and red around his cock. “You certainly know how to make a man feel special.”

Alexander _was_ special to him. One of the most important people in his life and all his. Leon braced his hands on Alexander’s hips and sank down as far as he could, still not quite touching the base, and then came back up. As he sank back down, he swallowed quickly in succession and listened to Alexander whimper above him.

Panting, his lover asked, “Where do you want me?”

A good question. Did Leon want to pause, want to strip down and have Alexander cum inside of him? Did he want Alexander to cum down his throat so that Leon would have no choice but to swallow? Or did he want Alexander to cum on his face, mark him up?

All very tempting.

At last, Leon pulled up with a “pop”, kissed the cock head like it was his one true love, and then began jerking Alexander off. He wanted to be a mess. He wanted that look on Alexander’s face when he saw Leon covered in his spunk. He wanted the care that came after, how Alexander would take him by the hands, lead him into the bathroom, and then gently wipe him down with a soft, damp cloth. Something about wearing Alexander’s ejaculate on his face turned the Russian into a bigger sweetheart than usual, as if Leon had given him a great gift and he felt a dire need to repay him for it.

Leon was going to get chocolate in bed while his lover cuddled up to him like a teddy bear, Alexander singing in his deep baritone until Leon fell asleep –

His eyes shut as Alexander gasped, cock jerking in his hand, and he felt the warm spatter of sperm on his forehead, across his cheek and chin, even landing in his hair. He gave the glans broad licks, encouraging more spurts –

But, wait –

Instead of the cock deflating, Leon felt it get even _harder_.

Oh, yeah.

He had forgotten to take Alexander’s nonexistent refraction period into account.

Damn it, Leon had had a plan.

Grumpily determined, he frowned up at his lover. “I’m not in the mood,” he said, voice hoarse from deepthroating.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alexander wheezed. He swatted Leon’s hands away. “One more… Stay right where you are…” Leon, kneeling as he was, sat back on his calves. He decided he could stick around for the show if he wasn’t being asked to do any work.

As a bonus, he pulled his shirt and bra up so that Alexander could watch Leon lazily pinch and roll his nipples.

That nice little treat made Alexander’s hand fly over his dick, the Russian grunting. He used no specific technique so much as he simply tried to roughhouse a second orgasm out.

Leon found a glob of cum on his bristled jaw and popped it in his mouth with two fingers, sliding them in to the last knuckle.

With haughty delight, he smirked around his digits as Alexander’s hips jerked toward him.

This was fun, he decided. He went back to playing with his breasts, flicking his nipples with his thumbs until they were red and swollen.

“Gn-uh!”

That was an embarrassing noise, Leon thought smugly. He almost wanted to completely strip down and play with himself _everywhere_ to see what other noises he could get Alexander to make without even touching the other man.

“ _Kotya,_ can I – ?” He pointed his dick tellingly at Leon’s breasts. Leon curved his spine to present his breasts better for targeting. Cum landed in the valley between them, on their small slopes, and over Leon’s hands where he was still holding them. Leon simpered at the mess Alexander had made of him and then at his lover.

The other man groaned helplessly, falling back into his chair. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

And yet, his eyes never looked away. “You are a menace to society,” Alexander told him. “You look like a cat right now, preening and purring.”

“Careful,” Leon gutturaled. “Or else I’m wiping my face off on your clothes.”

“Not that,” Alexander mock pleaded. “Please, let me take care of you instead.”

Leon let a moment pass as if he was considering it. “I guess I’ll take it.” Alexander zipped himself back up, helped Leon half-strip since his chest and face were now both filthy and he had to take his shirt and bra off, and then pulled him into the bathroom.

The shower seat he had used to need was still there and he sat Leon on it. A warm, damp cloth gently wiped him down, paying exceedingly close attention to rubbing his nipples even though they were clean. Leon leaned back and gargled mouthwash so that Alexander would be willing to kiss him again.

On the kitchen table, out of sight and out of mind, Leon’s phone lit up. He had one missed phone call.

A minute later, a second missed phone call.

In the bedroom, Alexander unearthed his private stash of chocolate and fed Leon by hand slowly, letting each melt on the agent’s tongue before leaning in to have a taste for himself. He sang softly as he pampered Leon, a lullaby, and they were flushed and clean and happy. Leon was only vaguely thinking about Dolence and this unexpected vacation. He was mostly thinking about what life would be like if he could live here with his boyfriend. He was thinking about what he would do if he didn’t have to be a DSO agent anymore, if he could leave the government job and no longer be hunted down to kill BOWs and fight against impossible odds. If he could live here with Alexander, what would he be?

Happy, he thought. First and foremost, he’d be fucking happy.

In the kitchen, he had a voicemail from Dr. Rebecca Chambers.

~::~

Alexander did not say anything. Or, at least, Leon believed it was Alexander. It had Alexander’s exact face, and yet its eyes were blizzard white and it was fourteen feet tall and, yes, it was a Tyrant.

Leon stood in front of a shattered water fountain, staring up at the BOW.

The Tyrant was naked, dick as long and wide as Leon’s thigh. It was erect.

Leon was also naked and, with no thought as to how it happened, he was having sex with the Tyrant. The thigh-sized cock did not hurt as it slid in and out of Leon’s body, but it bulged under Leon’s skin. He felt the cock head all the way to his diaphragm and watched it thrust against his ribs. Leather-gloved hands grabbed him gently by the hair and pulled his head back.

Somehow, they were standing and laying on the lip of the fountain simultaneously, and the fountain was whole and working and it was awful. Its stone and marble were cut into faces of the undead and they moved to try and bite Leon.

The Tyrant used his hold on Leon’s hair to pull his head under water. The fountain’s crystal clear and winter cold water tasted like blood as Leon breathed it in.

Looking up at the surface of the pool, Leon was still watching the Tyrant’s cock move inside of him, getting larger and larger. There was no fear, no pain, no panic – only the knowledge that Alexander was home.

Inside of him.

He moved his hands over the bulge the cock created and hands writhed under his skin.

Leon said, and he was at the bar in Colorado suddenly as he said it, “I love you, Sasha.”

Sasha, sitting next to him, replied, “Ditto.” And then they laughed as if a great joke had just been told.

Leon turned his head and there was a Plaga Type 1 in front of him, the size of a human. The size of an Alexander.

It said, with Sasha’s voice, “Do you still love me?”

Leon pressed a kiss to one of its tentacles. “I never stopped –”

Leon woke up slowly, eyes flickering open. With a deep intake of breath, he rolled over and kissed the nape of Alexander’s neck. Still fuzzy, he said, “I love you.”

Alexander turned over in his arms.

His eyes were blood red, his veins protruding, his skin grey and dead –

Leon opened his mouth and Alexander coughed a Plaga down his throat.

“This is how much I love you,” Leon told him. “Look at me, Sasha,” he said. He wanted to cup Alexander’s face in his hands, wanted the monster to kiss him, but his arms were too weak. They laid on the pillow above his head, barely moving no matter how hard Leon tried. “Sasha, please? Sasha, please, don’t you love me?”

The monster finally met his eyes. “You look like a cat, _kotya_ ,” Alexander said, and he stuck his hand down Leon’s throat.

When he pulled it out, he held the Plaga he had given Leon. He threw it over the side of the bed and then a book was in his hands instead. Alexander rested his head over Leon’s chest and began to read.

There was no noise, but, suddenly, the Plaga was back.

Leon only watched as it’s spear-like tail struck Alexander in his ribs. The tail came out the other side through Alexander’s back and lifted him off the bed.

“Are you okay?” Alexander asked with concern, hovering there in the clothes he had warn during the civil war.

“I’m fine,” Leon told him. “You saved me.”

The Plaga bit Alexander’s head off.

~::~

Leon woke up swinging, a choked yell caught in his throat. His fist connected with Alexander’s head.

“Mmm – good morning?”

Leon stopped fighting, staring down at Alexander’s face with horror.

Sasha was fine. His eyes were hazy with sleep, but familiar dark and alive. He was healthy. Alexander rolled toward him and pulled him into his arms. “I have you,” Alexander slurred. He nuzzled his cheek against Leon’s hair. “You are with me.”

Except that was the problem. In Leon’s dreams, he was always with Alexander.

These dreams had begun a year ago when Alexander had “miraculously” started walking again and developed armor. They had never really gone away, not even when Leon was in the States without Alexander, but the frequency of them had diminished over time.

Leon placed a hand over Alexander’s chest where the Plaga had stabbed him. His lover’s heart beat reassuringly strong, even if dim underneath his lover’s unnaturally thick skin.

“I feel, sometimes,” Alexander began to drowsily hypothesize as his hands stroked up and down Leon’s spine, “that the armor was a very good idea, no matter how it happened. I think you just hit me, but it felt like a gentle breeze of air.”

Leon hit him on purpose this time in the shoulder.

“There is that breeze again!”

Leon snorted wetly. “I don’t think having armor excuses the fact that I beat the shit out of you almost every time I wake up.”

“You had these night terrors before we even began dating,” Alexander reminded him. “I was familiar with you ‘beating the shit out of me’ every time you woke up long before I decided I wanted to kiss you.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re a masochist.”

“Just a man in love,” Alexander hummed. “No matter the consequences.”

Of which Alexander was aware of, wasn’t he? He had lost Irina in a mass murder. He knew the pain of loss, of being betrayed by his government, of trying to shut down his emotions so that he would stop feeling…

And yet he never let Leon have even a single moment of doubt over Alexander’s affection for him.

“I love you,” Leon told him. “You know that, right?”

“Oh, I thought I was just your, what is the American term? Ah, your ‘booty call’.”

Leon snorted. “Oh, yeah. The only reason I fly halfway across the world to be here is because of that dick.”

“When will you realize that I am more than my massive cock?”

Leon made some uncertain noises. “ _Massive_?” He twisted his lips in doubt.

A pillow slapped him in the face so fast that Leon didn’t even see Alexander pick it up. “I mean, I guess it’s _decent_ ,” he allowed, blocking the next pillow attack with his forearm and trying to grab his own. Belatedly, he realized Alexander had already nudged it off the mattress on his side, meaning that Leon was either going to have to wrestle for Alexander’s pillow or dive over him to get the other.

“You come halfway across the world for my dick!” Alexander yelled, trying to cover up the fact that he was laughing, “And you only think it is _decent_?” He kept whacking at Leon’s arms, his torso, his head. “That only proves that I am not with you for your intelligence!”

“Obviously, you’re with me for my ass!” Leon yelled back. He made a daring lunge over Alexander’s hips. Am arm locked around his waist and an open palm came down like a paddle on his buttocks.

“A very good selling point,” Alexander agreed contentedly. He gave one ass cheek a powerful squeeze. “I give it… an eight out of ten. It could have more bounce.” He gave it another spine-tingling slap.

“You sonofa _bitch._ ” Leon got his hand on the pillow and swung it up in an arc, catching Alexander across the ear and eye. “It’s a ten out of ten and you fucking know it!”

“And my dick is more than just _decent_!”

“That’s what you think! How about you _prove_ it?” Leon growled.

Alexander quickly checked the time on his phone. He gave Leon a victorious glare when he realized that they did not have to be at school for another two hours.

“I will!” he hissed back. “After you brush your teeth! We did not have skunk for dinner, your stink is inexcusable.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck _you_ , that is the point. Do you want my _decent_ dick or did you travel across the ocean to be disappointed?”

Leon shot off the bed.

Later, after Leon admitted – under extreme, orgasm-related duress – that Alexander indeed had a massive dick, they cleaned up quickly in the shower and made a quick breakfast of rye bread with cheese.

Leon frowned as he realized he had never plugged in his phone. He moved gingerly – perhaps doing anal when he knew they had places to be had not been his best decision – and picked it up, only to find that it had died at some point in the night. “Could you plug this in for me?” he asked his boyfriend, who should be kind and do it for him since it was his fault Leon was waddling like a goddamn penguin.

Alexander gave him an arrogant look. “I cannot, actually.” He sat down pointedly. “I am tired. I just put my _massive_ dick to work to prove a point to my whiny little boyfriend. I must replenish my strength.”

“You’re only five inches taller than me,” Leon groused. “I’m not little.”

“Twelve centimeters,” Alexander corrected primly because he was an asshole and this was Europe.

Leon managed to plug his phone in because, fuck it all, he’d been through worse. When he got back to the kitchen, Alexander already set down a mug of coffee for him and had peeled one of the tangerines for him to have with his breakfast.

“Tomorrow,” Leon said as he carefully sat down, “I plan on staying home.”

Alexander froze for a moment, staring at him. His mouth moved, forming the word ‘home’ without a sound. The man smiled with overwhelming gentleness. “Here?”

Leon gave him a dull look. “No,” he answered sarcastically. “Didn’t I tell you? I live with Ingrid and her partner now, I have for months. I’ll be down the street if you need me.”

“Smartass. Why is that?”

“Well, to start, I was born with extremely high levels of sarcasm…”

“ _Thank you_ for that.” Alexander scowled at him. “Why are you staying home? Are you tired of my children already?”

Leon shook his head. “There’s some research I have to do. There’s a Republican senator, Terse Dolence, who has been acting strange lately.” Leon noted how Alexander’s happy expression drained away and left him blank faced and cold. “He’s suspected in the disappearance of three men following claims that he sexually assaulted them… You look like you already know all of this.”

“George Kint,” Alexander began slowly, almost carefully. “Marcus Trevue. And Stephen Belmont.”

The agent thoughtfully chewed on a tangerine slice. It was not uncommon for Alexander to follow American news; it was only that Alexander tended to keep track of policy changes and government upheavals. The personal lives of government bodies were beyond his time and patience.

“You know about Dolence,” Leon eventually settled on.

“I know about Dolence.”

“Mind explaining that?”

Alexander debated with himself for a long moment, finishing off his breakfast with such bites that he appeared angry.

At last, he explained. “You are important to me. You are _the_ most important person in my life. There was an attempt to not allow trans men and women to serve in the military in your country and I wished to know more about the bastards who would support such a motion. I started alphabetically and, if you can imagine, I find your government to be full of garbage and small-minded rats. I eventually got to Dolence… The first seventeen results have nothing to do with his policies or his senatorship, but the _multiple_ allegations against him and those three disappearances. Do you know what I noticed all of his victims had in common?”

Leon closed his eyes. “He’s never even tried to touch me, Sasha. I’m safe.”

“He will be gone in a month,” Sasha told him with some desperation. “Let him leave and then continue your investigation when his power is greatly reduced.”

“I’m just doing research for now. I was actually hoping for your help in looking at his financial records.”

“I will help you.” Alexander all but threw his dishes in the sink. He was the sort of man who cleaned dishes as soon as they were dirtied and yet he stood there, hands clenching the rim of the counter, and the tension in his shoulders was palpable.

Leon finished his own breakfast and came up behind his lover. He settled one hand between Alexander’s shoulders and pressed a rye-and-citrus tasting kiss to Alexander’s temple. “This isn’t even top ten for most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.”

“You are used to dealing with monsters,” Alexander allowed. “Am I not allowed to want to protect you from this single one?”

“I’m a big boy. I protect myself.”

“I want to be the person who makes it so that you do not have to.”

Leon stared at his lover’s face. “You’re a few decades too late for that.”

“Just this once. Just this one monster… I would fight this monster for you.”

“You can’t.”

Alexander’s hands flexed on the counter. “If you fight Dolence, he will not want the same things from you that other monsters in the past have wanted. I do not want you to take that chance.”

“It’s just research.”

“For _now_. While you are here. When you go back to America?”

Leon was tellingly silent.

Alexander cursed. “It is always you and a fight against all odds.”

“Sounds like how we met.”

“I will help you,” Alexander said again with less fury, more exhaustion. “If he touches you, bite his dick off and then hot glue it back on.”

“Thanks for nothing, now that image is stuck in my head.”

“Show him no mercy. If America comes for your head, come here to me and I will keep you safe.”

“My hero,” Leon said. He meant it as a joke and yet his voice came out somewhat too soft to pass off as one.

No one ever tried to keep Leon safe. No one except this one man.

Leon studied the proud bridge of his nose, the furrow of his brows, the cut of his jaw.

“Perhaps you could have someone go with you as you investigate him,” Alexander offered impassively. “Someone not involved with your government. Or with your country.” He swallowed thickly. “In your absence, I may or may not have gotten a passport.” He glanced at Leon and then away. “I was thinking of surprising you for New Years.”

He felt unreasonably choked on emotion. “That… would have been a great surprise. Are you ready for your first trip to America to include espionage and government scandal?”

“I cannot imagine how else I will have fun in your hypocritical and intolerant country.”

“Sounds like someone’s a little angry at a land mass right now.”

“Only the people who govern it.”

Alexander was coming to America with him. Leon attempted to recall the state his apartment was currently in.

Last he had seen, it was largely bare. He didn’t gather souvenirs from his adventures or gifts from his friends, as everyone seemed to have come to the conclusion that he was a minimalist and wanted nothing unless it had some sort of weapon capability. The few photos that meant anything to him were kept in a small album by his double-size bed. He had neither the time nor energy to utilize his kitchen and so it gathered dust and no personality.

The only way to tell that he lived there was that he always had dirty clothes on the floor. Usually in his bathroom, though clothing had trailed after him into his living room and bedroom. When he got home, laundry was never a priority. His first priority was to get out of his filthy clothes, take a shower, and then slip into something clean without the scent of death and war. By the time he had to leave for a mission, he was always just starting on the laundry.

Leon narrowed his eyes consideringly on Alexander’s face.

Even when – no, _especially_ when – Alexander had been in his wheelchair, he had been apoplectic whenever there was clutter on the floor.

“You’re going to hate my apartment,” Leon warned him.

“Why? Do you live in a shoebox?”

“You’ll see.”

“That is not reassuring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could I please, please, PLEASE... have some feedback? Is anyone even reading this story? is it good so far, is it horrible? Are you excited for more, do you hate what I am doing? Please, can someone talk to me about this story? I felt so proud of myself while writing this and yet this story is getting... so very little acknowledgement. I understand that it is not complete, but I can see that there ARE people checking it out, more than eighty hits at this point... And yet this story only has three kudos and one comment. Am I doing something wrong?


	5. Know Your Audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so freaking happy with the comments I got since I posted the last chapter. Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me about this story! The rush of pure joy I feel every time I see I have a review for this story is just wonderful. 
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone! I started this story out strong and right about this chapter is where my plot starts falling apart. Enjoy!

**Rebecca Chambers**

Separating DNA from Alexander’s saliva would not have taken that long. Running it into the system and doing a full analysis with her equipment would have only taken a few days.

In the free moments where she remembered Alexander’s sample sitting in her refrigerator, she reminded herself how simple it would be to extract his DNA and run those tests. It would be far simpler than all the other projects she was currently undertaking.

As a virologist, her concentration was in manmade viruses, specifically genetically engineered viruses created for the sole purpose of generating bio-organic weapons or BOWs. She had a very specialized niche that she worked in and analyzing Alexander’s DNA, while she was not a geneticist or a parasitologist, actually fell quite nicely in her jurisdiction should his results support a Plaga-based origin.

Instead, every free moment was dedicated to an uncharacteristic amount of detective work. She had managed to plead and bribe for all the documents related to the facility where Billy had originally been housed from the BSAA – specifically through Jill and Chris – and had spent weeks skimming through every piece of paper in the hopes of uncovering something of Billy’s fate. Eventually, she came across a scientist’s loose-leaf journal. What she had discovered did not make her happy.

As it turned out, Billy was an experimental subspecies of the T-103 Tyrant codenamed Tyrant B. He had not been mass produced like his predecessor T-103, or like other T-103 variants such as the Ivan. The scientists who had tormented him made vague notes to Billy’s self-awareness. There were several observations that only discussed how Billy would stare at them without obeying their orders. He was considered ‘defective’ and was set to be destroyed.

The last observation in the scientist’s journal told of how the scientist knew that Umbrella Pharmaceuticals was falling and that the scientist had had a monetary offer for “Tyrant B”. A location for the trade-off was written.

From those weeks of reading well into the night and reading more before work and during her lunch breaks, Rebecca developed somewhat of a caffeine addiction and did not keep track of whether she was sleeping at all.

At some point, she woke up in a hospital attached to an IV. She was told that she had collapsed from exhaustion in her lab and was dehydrated. Rebecca thanked her doctor kindly, promised to take better care of her health, and dove right back into the mystery of “Where is Billy Coen?” as soon as she got home.

From the location listed in the first journal, she managed to bust a small child trafficking ring. Thirty-seven adults were incarcerated and twelve children were recovered. She was heavily congratulated and her name ended up in several news articles. Her university was pleased to have a hero in their employment.

As happy as Rebecca was – truly and overwhelmingly happy that she had helped save children, so much so that she wept and made sure to give each child a Christmas present – she could not help just the smallest nugget of frustration from creeping into her work. It had been October of 2019 when Chris had told her about Billy, December when she caught out the traffickers, and it was February of 2020 before she found her next clue. This time, she managed to sick the BSAA on a weapons dealer in Greece.

“You’re really good at this,” Chris congratulated her when he came to tell her the news. “If working in a lab every gets boring for you, I can think of several agencies that would want you as an investigator.”

“In this line of work, you just get really good with puzzles,” Rebecca told him, exhausted and annoyed. She managed to dredge up a smile for him, nonetheless. “I will keep that in mind, though.” For as much as her university was proud of her, she was falling behind in her own work – the work she actually got paid to do and loved doing.

Reluctantly, she had to take a step back from looking for Billy just so she could take care of herself. It was May before Chris managed to scrounge up a lead for her. One of the underlings of the weapons dealer she had found out admitted to being the one who sold the defective Tyrant. That was what they called Billy: Defective. Tyrant B would not listen to commands.

From the subordinate, Rebecca learned that her next trip was to Ghana. From Ghana, she had to schedule vacation time to go to Canada. From Canada, she had to return to work because she had no vacation time left.

Over a weekend in July, she uncovered a plot in Yemen to use a mass-produced variant of Tyrant-103 against the populace, not unlike what the president of Eastern Slav Republic had attempted to do years ago. Perhaps Yemen had even been inspired by her actions.

The BSAA, DSO – and she flinched to hear that Leon had been involved, knowing that she still had Alexander’s spit in a tube in the back of her refrigerator – and TerraSafe had gotten involved with that one.

Chris returned to her with another journal. He claimed that the BSAA had cornered Yemen’s supplier of BOWs and the supplier had taken her own life. In her briefcase had been this journal. They had no idea what it meant.

No idea what it meant? Surely, you were just supposed to open it and read it –

Rebecca stared blankly at the pages. At first, she thought it was in a different language. And then she realized she was looking at code, a mess of numbers, dots, and dashes.

“If it helps, we think it’s in Mandarin,” Chris told her.

The only good news was that she knew Mandarin. “Can’t you find a cryptoanalyst?” she asked him.

He gave her a tired look. “If I give this to a cryptoanlayst, whatever is inside will be government property. I have my team on lockdown, they won’t tell anyone that you have this, but… This is your best bet to finding Billy. We believe that this is an address book of everyone she sold bio-organic weapons to.”

“Blackmail material,” Rebecca realized.

“Exactly. It didn’t do her any good in the end, but it might for you. We know that she had Billy… Chances are, wherever she sent Billy, it’s in this book.”

Rebecca nodded and clutched the book to her chest. “Well, I’m not a code breaker by trade, but… it’s never too late to learn a new skill.”

He smiled down at her. “That’s the spirit.”

She pulled him into a hug, practically leaping up to get a hold of him. With an “oof!”, he let himself hold her in turn. “Thank you, Chris,” she whispered into his shoulder. “This means a lot to me.”

“Just remember to take care of yourself, alright? No more hospital visits because you’re working too hard.”

“I’ll do my best.”

For the next five months, Rebecca learned how to break codes and then how to break the code in the journal. It was a good one. After all her studying and practice, she felt that it had to be unbreakable. Nonetheless, she kept trying.

In order to break the code, Rebecca had to get to know the deceased weapons dealer, Cui Lin. That was very hard to do as Cui Lin had been a woman who did not want to be known. She had essentially disappeared after being disowned from her family at age nineteen. Rebecca obsessively went over every corner of the journal, hoping for a clue, but there was only a newspaper clipping taped to the back cover of a planetarium projector.

Rebecca had gathered an obscene amount of information about the projector and so knew that it was the first planetarium projector ever built between 1923 and 1924. The news article itself had been torn off, meaning that she had to go diving into archives going decades back to try and locate where the photo had come from. To make matters worse, the photo had been reused by several outlets spanning from 1924 just after it was constructed to 1976 when it had been retired.

Rebecca had to ask herself numerous times: Was Billy Coen worth it?

Every time, no longer how long she hesitated, the answer was: Yes.

And then, tired as she was, she began to think of how far one would go for the things they loved.

In a flash of inspiration, she realized that she was thinkingly too logically about this. Cui Lin had been born in 1963, before Mark I had been destroyed in a fire and then restored.

“This is personal,” Rebecca said aloud to herself. She was thinking of a small girl sitting in a big room, looking at stars splashed across the dome walls and being filled with wonder. Cui Lin had been from a prestigious family until she was disowned. Officially, it was unknown why her father had exiled her from her own home. Unofficially, there were rumors that a male relative had caught Lin with a female lover.

Rebecca laid down on the floor of her lab and stared up at the ceiling. She imagined being very small, still happy and untried by life, living in the lap of luxury. She imagined those stars so close she could almost touch them, gifted to her by a machine that had never been seen before. The first of its kind.

The code was based on this moment. Rebecca just _knew_ it. Something about this moment, when Cui Lin had seen the stars cast by the Mark I planetarium projector in Germany, had stayed with her for the rest of her life. How had she felt? What had she been thinking?

Rebecca tried to fit several words into the key to unlocking the code: Space, universe, vast, galaxy, stars… None of them worked.

Late one night, so cold that she could see her breath as ice crystals in the air, she walked to a nearby park and sat down at a frosty wooden bench. She looked up at stars she could barely see because of city lights. If she could see them, how would she feel? She would feel so small.

Her problems would feel small. Nowhere else in the solar system did Rebecca Chambers matter. Nowhere else were there bio-organic weapons. There was only possibility out there in the galaxy, and sights of fairytale-like beauty.

She found that she was staring up at the sky for much longer than she had planned to. She had fallen into a sense of peace.

A sense of peace…

Cui Lin had been disowned at the age of nineteen. Rebecca had taken it as an isolated incident, but what if Lin’s entire life had been building up to that moment?

What if her prestigious lifestyle had hidden pain?

A very powerful, traditional father, a meek and subservient mother, two older and domineering brothers, and then her. A girl who grew up to love girls. A girl who had been expected to build the family fortune through marriage. There were no official documents anywhere saying that there had been an arranged engagement, admittedly. However, reading between the lines and finding only a handful of photos featuring Lin before she was kicked out, Rebecca could see that her father had meant for Lin to go to one of his more prosperous business partners. He had been a man older than Lin by at least three decades.

Imagine being a small child, Rebecca thought to herself, who just wanted to get as far away as possible. Space was it.

Space was… freedom.

Rebecca knew she was on the right track, she _knew_ she was right! The key was in her hands, she just had to name it. And yet it still took another week before she had the right language – apparently, it _was_ in Mandarin – and the right name. Each dash was a space and each dot was a colon. How did freedom fit? In a moment of blind, exhausted luck, she named the key:

代表自由

“To represent freedom”.

And the year Lin had finally gained her freedom, 1982.

She cracked the rest of the code in one night, dusk to dawn.

The problem once she had cracked the code was actually translating the journal. Fortunately, there were only a few pages. Unfortunately, Lin had written small, though in very neat lines, and looking at the code for too long made Rebecca’s eyes and head hurt. It was days before she managed to get to the end of the journal.

The fourth to last entry was Tyrant B.

Sold to Terse Dolence, the current Republican senator for West Virginia.

~::~

Of course she called Chris first. Within minutes, she had his promise that he would help.

“How soon do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Next month?”

A voice in the back of Rebecca’s head was yelling: Now, now, now, NOW, NOW! “Even sooner,” was what she said.

“If you wait one more month until he’s no longer senator and Gomez is inaugurated, the BSAA can get permission to investigate,” he tried to bribe her. “Breaking and entering on a senator’s property right now is not going to look good, and you won’t be able to keep anything you find. You probably won’t even be able to keep your job if you’re caught.”

“That’s if we’re caught. Leon will be with us.”

“Leon is coming?”

“Well…” She hoped he was. She hadn’t called him yet, so she was being particularly presumptuous. Especially considering that Alexander’s sample was still sitting in storage.

Once she got Billy back, she told herself to assuage the guilt, she would get to work on Alexander’s DNA sample. Billy and then Alexander. Billy just needed her more at the moment. Alexander was stable. Alexander was fine. 

Hopefully, Leon and Alexander were not overly upset at her for a year of radio silence…

Who was she kidding? They probably hated her, and she would deserve it.

“You haven’t asked him, have you?” Chris groaned. “How do you know he’ll come? He wasn’t too keen last time we tried to ask him for a favor.”

“He was in a really bad place, Chris,” she reminded him softly. “You’ve been in that same bad place. So have I. It was just bad timing for everything. I’ll get Leon, we’ll sneak in, take photos of everything we need, sneak out, find where Billy is being kept and then, after Gomez takes office, you can take the evidence to her to get permission for the BSAA to investigate.”

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple. Besides, he just had a party the other night, didn’t he? I’m sure his estate will be very quiet right now.”

“You can hope.”

“Yes, I can. So don’t rain on my parade!”

He chuckled. “Alright, I’ll try not to. If there’s really no time better than the present, then I’m setting up transport for...” There was a moment’s pause as if he was checking his availability. “Three days from now. So, December 20th. I’ll call you later with more details, subject to change depending on if Leon’s coming and where we’re picking him up. All in all, I think we can agree that we’re not getting on Dolence’s estate until after dark.”

“Okay. Thank you so much for everything, Chris.”

“We have to look out for each other, we ancients,” he teased, though there was actual exhaustion in his voice. After all, Rebecca had had her first encounter with BOWs before Chris even had. They were indeed the oldest of the old when it came to this modern age of bioterrorism.   
“See you soon, ancient,” Rebecca teased in turn. He gave his farewell and they hung up. On a notepad next to her computer, she wrote down the details for when they were going to do this. Her heart was going crazy!

And she was bone-tired. Once she got on Dolence’s estate, what would she even look for? Where would he keep such sensitive information? Where in the world would he keep a Tyrant?

Maybe she was being too hasty. If she waited a month, they could approach President Gomez with proof that Dolence had purchased a bio-organic weapon and have his property searched. And yet, Rebecca knew it would not be that easy. Gomez was not going to make the first thing she did as president something as controversial as letting the BSAA operate within the United States for something less than a national catastrophe like the Arias attack had been. At best, she would let the DSO handle it since they were meant to deal with bioterroristic attacks within the country. If Rebecca got lucky, Leon would be put on the case as he was the only one even remotely likely to feed her any information he might find on Tyrant B. If she was extremely unlucky, Leon would be put on the case and he would not be willing to help her at all considering she had left him and his partner high and dry for more than a year.

Then again, she was already pulling him up in her contacts, about to ask him to do something equally as dangerous for his career.

“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered to her phone. “Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me…”

The phone rang and rang and rang. Leon didn’t answer. He had to be purposely ignoring her… No, he wouldn’t. Even if he was absolutely furious with her, he didn’t know what she was calling about. For all he knew, she had the results to Alexander’s tests in her hands – although she actually did not and she was beginning to wish that she did just to have something to ease her shame.

Whatever the reason, Leon did not pick up.

Desperate, she left a voicemail.

“Leon, it’s me, Rebecca. I’m so sorry that I haven’t gotten back to you about Alexander’s tests, I should have made those top priority a long time ago, and I, I understand if you are upset with me. I am so sorry that you trusted me with this and I haven’t made the time to give you any results. I’m calling… I’m hoping that…” Her voice became a whisper of sound, strangled with emotion. “I need your help, Leon. I need your help in getting back some… something I lost a very long time ago. I’ve already reached out to Chris and we’ve decided to move out in three days. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. I swear, I promise you, I will make Alexander my number one priority after this. I _promise_. Just, please. Help me.”

She hung up, shaking. Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t actually explained anything.

“That was stupid,” she hissed under breath. “Come on, Dr. Chambers.” She called him again. Again, she got voicemail.

“Let me be more specific,” she said instantly. “Hi, this is Rebecca. We have evidence that Senator Terse Dolence has purchased a bio-organic weapon in the past and that information to the… the _Tyrant’s_ location is somewhere on his estate. Chris and I plan to investigate December 20th. We are operating… freelance. But Chris is built like a brick wall and, well, every experience in the field that I have had have _not_ gone well. We need your help to get in and out. Please say you’ll help me?” She swallowed thickly. “Thank you, Leon. I hope to hear from you soon.”

~::~

**Terse Dolence**

Having a backdoor to Kennedy’s cellphone had benefited Dolence more than once and in very personally fulfilling ways. She was a brazen little thing, and Dolence felt that he saw her pussy as much as her lover did. He rather enjoyed collecting each photo and adding it to his private collection. Of course, there were the little video clips she would send to her lover. Kozachenko could be trusted to return each video with his own, but Dolence was interested in watching Kennedy play with herself like the whore she was.

The perks, Dolence considered with a smile, of a long-distance relationship. Kozachenko truly was a blessed man… if only he would stop enabling Kennedy and her gender confusion.

There were also other advantages to getting every phone call and text Kennedy got on her personal phone. More practical advantages.

Greury played back the voicemails Kennedy had received from Dr. Rebecca Chambers, a celebrated virologist.

“A visit?” Dolence enquired warmly. “To my estate? I’ll have to invite some guests.” He was thinking of the fifty Democratic representatives that had been in his home just the other night. Without their knowledge, they had each ingested a Plaga egg during his evening toast. Some of them had ingested several just because Dolence had wanted to ensure success. There had been a handful that Greury had caught trying to leave the fun early and they had been less pleasantly injected with an egg. The event, Dolence had considered afterward, had been a good enough starting point. Taking over the House was not unlike growing a tree. One simply started with a solid trunk and then branched off from there.

Dolence considered the branch that would very soon be Kennedy herself.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he declared. “Dr. Chambers is giving me a truly fantastic gift. So kind of her to ask the agent to come here straight to me.”

He was thinking of Kennedy, trapped by Dolence’s pets, willing to do anything to protect her friends. Anything?

Dolence crossed his legs at the knees, penis plumping in his slacks.

Oh, anything, Dolence was sure.

Even ride him in front of her friends? In front of fifty representatives? Suck his cock into her mouth, her hazel eyes wet with tears? She had such a manly face now, but those hazel eyes would be as soft as any woman’s. Dolence could have her shirt torn open, reveal those adorably small-sized tits. He could have her pants ripped off, revealing that short golden curls at the apex of her thighs, her wet pussy.

He would make her naked and she would learn to enjoy her femininity, her nudity, just like all the others before her.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

There was a moment of dangerous stillness.

Leon put his phone down after playing both voicemails on speaker. He and Alexander sat at the kitchen table.

At the end of the school day, he and Alexander had returned home. Leon had retreated to the bedroom to grab his phone after letting it charge while they were gone and had noticed the voicemails from Rebecca. Unsure and yet hopeful as to what the subject was, he had gone to the kitchen where Alexander was and had played the voicemails for them both to hear.

As it turned out, it was not Rebecca giving them Alexander’s results.

Leon listened to her beg with his eyes downcast. She sounded like she thought they hated her.

Leon wasn’t exactly happy with her. She had made a promise and then she had broken it as soon as she had returned to the States. Leon had, two or three times, attempted to reach out to her to see where she was in the testing process. He never managed to get a hold of her. She had become far too busy to spend even two minutes on the phone with him. He wished he could say that he _was_ mad, but the truth was that he was only disappointed – and barely even that after all this time.

He couldn’t be mad because, whatever had been going on with her this past year, it had led to her exposing a child trafficking ring, getting sent to the hospital, travelling to at least five different countries, and exposing a government plot to commit genocide in Yemen. Those were only the _big_ events. Who knew what was going on behind closed doors?

At some point, his annoyance toward her had turned to concern. He had backed off, and Alexander had agreed that they should back off, once he realized that she was running herself into the ground.

Even though these voicemails weren’t what they wanted to hear, Leon did feel some relief that Rebecca was capable of asking for help after all this time. He wasn’t sure why Rebecca was so invested in this, what she had lost and wanted back, or what this had to do with Dolence dealing with BOW’s, but he knew what he was going to do next. He was going to call her and ask where she wanted to pick him up.

Leon glanced at Alexander. “Still want to come?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “We won’t exactly be able to call it a _date_ , but at least you’ll get to hang out with my friends.”

Alexander was quiet. His face was drawn into serious deliberation. At last, he looked up at Leon. “Call Dr. Chambers and tell her that we will need pickup for two.” He grasped Leon’s hand in his own and squeezed. “I am with you.”

Leon looked away, smiling despite himself. “Have to protect me from the monster?” he teased.

“Yes,” Alexander answered with utmost sincerity. “As much as you will let me.”

Leon didn’t have a reply for that, so he just dialed up Rebecca’s number. She answered almost immediately, a flurry of “Hello?” and apologies and half-formed questions.

“I’m currently in Eastern Slav Republic,” he told her. “Sasha’s coming with me. You figure out transportation and we’re with you.”

He heard her almost start crying, that cut-off little sob before she got control of herself. “Thank you, Leon. I’ll let Chris know. I’ll be back in touch with a pickup time and location.”

“Sounds like a party,” he agreed, and then hung up.

Alexander pulled their hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I will call my school and tell them that I need a leave of absence.”

Leon licked his lips. “Maybe we can spend Christmas at my place?”

“Perhaps.” Alexander was smiling. “I would like that, _kotya_.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You hate America.”

“I would like to spend Christmas with you.”

Leon leaned across the table and kissed the man he loved. “This is why I come to Eastern Slav Republic for booty calls,” he growled. “You always know how to get me going.”

“I know, _kotya_ ,” Alexander groaned. “Perhaps later. Help me pack. I… I have no idea what to bring with me.”

Leon looked around the small apartment and then at the man he loved. “You,” Leon decided. “Just you.”

“That is adorable, but I will need clothes.”

“I mean… I guess.”

~::~

A long-range jet was at the airport to transport them upon arrival. Alexander stared at the aircraft through the large bay windows with trepidation.

Leon nudged the back of his hand with his own. “You don’t have to go,” he offered. “You can stay here.” You can stay safe, Leon didn’t say, and yet he felt it ache in his chest.

“I am no coward,” Alexander reminded him with a sneer. “Where you go, I go now.”

There was a bridge to get onto the jet. Rebecca was waiting for them at its starting point, looking exhausted.

“Thank you for coming,” she told him. “I feel so much better knowing that you’ll be with us.” She smiled wanly. “Both of you. The more the merrier, right?”

“So I have been told,” Alexander muttered. He hesitated only for a moment before he continued forward.

“Who’s flying this thing?” Leon asked.

“D.C.,” Rebecca informed him. “Nadia is going to stay in the cockpit with him. Chris is in the back with us.”

“Is that everyone?”

“Well… yes? I mean, _technically speaking_ , Nadia and D.C. are only acting as transport. They won’t be coming with us to Dolence’s mansion.”

Leon frowned at her. “Rebecca, what the hell?”

“The situation is… tricky.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one, we’re breaking and entering into a Republican senator’s private property without a warrant and against the restrictions set by the United States on the BSAA?” She began in a voice that gradually got quieter and shriller. She smiled awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “And, also, this is a rescue mission for a Tyrant that used to be Billy Coen.”

“Should I know who that is…?”

“He was on death row for the murder of twenty-three people in Africa while in the Marines,” she mumbled, as if hoping he wouldn’t understand her. “But it wasn’t him!”

“Oh my fucking God, we’re all going to jail.”

She gave him her saddest eyes.

“I’m still in,” he reassured her. “I’m just not happy and I’m going to make sure you know I’m not happy every step of the way. I can’t believe I finally get to bring my boyfriend to the States and the second thing I’m going to show him is the inside of the American criminal justice system. Right after some illegal trespassing.”

“I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.”

“You get that DNA test on Sasha and I’ll consider us even.”

“It will be the very next thing I get done, I swear it, no more distractions. Even if the world catches on fire – ”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that, you _know_ it will – ”

“Even if the world catches on fire,” she repeated seriously, “I will get that test done.” She paused. “I noticed that he still looks fine, though. I did tell you that, whatever is going on with him, he’s stable.”

“Yeah, you were right about that.”

In the belly of the jet, Alexander was having a clipped conversation with Chris. The BSAA captain was frowning –

Up at Alexander.

Because, _hah_ , Alexander was taller by two inches. Chris had the muscles of a brick wall, making him bulkier and wider, at least.

“Alexander Kozachenko,” Leon introduced belatedly. “Meet Captain Chris Redfield of the BSAA.”

“Yes, we are meeting,” Alexander said. “He wants me off the jet. He says civilians do not belong on this mission.”

“Nice try, Chris,” Leon drawled. “He’s with me.”

Chris gestured to Alexander. “Who even is this guy?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Leon answered.

Several emotions crossed over Chris’s face. First, he appeared to fail to understand. And then, he was confused. Thirdly, he was surprised. At last, he looked pissed. “Your fucking _boyfriend_?” he snapped. He threw his hands up in the air and stalked toward the back of the jet. He turned on his heel in a tight circle and stomped back. “You’re into _guys_?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Alexander asked coldly.

“Is that –” Chris paused, examining Alexander closely. He started at his boots and traversed all the way to the top of Alexander’s thick, dark hair. If it hadn’t been for the angry look on his face, Leon would have thought the captain was checking out his boyfriend.

Chris gestured again at Alexander, more aggressively as he grimaced at Leon. “ _Him_?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Leon asked, starting to get offended. “I like him just fine.” He had no fucking idea what was going on.

Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to have been struck with clarity. He smiled meanly. “Yes, Redfield, he likes me just _fine_.”

If looks could kill, Leon’s boyfriend would have burst into flames on the spot.

“How long has this been going on?” Chris choked out, as if speaking around some great and intense emotion.

Leon thought back. “We’ve known each other for eight years and been together for four.”

The captain scoffed. “And what does _Alexander_ do for a living?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Leon wasn’t sure, but he felt like the captain was very assertively flexing.

He wasn’t going to lie, those muscles on display were nice. Then he glanced at his boyfriend, and, well, he just thought Alexander’s face was nicer.

“He’s a primary school teacher.”

“A schoolteacher?”

It seemed like every other thing Leon said was throwing Chris off.

“I was a Freedom Fighter when we first met,” Alexander informed him. “Fighting for the independence of my country against my corrupt government.” He spoke smoothly, a glint of something amused in his dark eyes. “Leon saved my life,” he added softly with an affectionate glance at his lover.

“And now you’re a schoolteacher,” Chris repeated hollowly. “And you’ve been together for four fucking years.” He rubbed at his temples.

“Duly noted that you don’t think I’m capable of long-term relationships,” Leon muttered sourly. “How about we get this jet in the air and start brainstorming instead of getting upset about my boyfriend being a schoolteacher?”

“That is _not_ – ” Chris stopped himself, holding up a single finger. His lips were pursed together tightly and turned down into an inverse U. He glared at the floor as if it had personally offended him. “Four fucking years,” he whispered to himself.

“Yeah, asshole, turns out someone liked me enough to keep me around. Can you get over it or not?’

“Not, but not for the reasons you apparently think.”

Leon wanted to be mad as hell, but Alexander was cackling and Rebecca looked embarrassed for Chris. The captain was blushing, pointedly not looking at Leon.

“Oh,” Leon said intelligently. “Uh.”

Alexander, also an asshole, clapped Chris on the shoulder. “Tough break, _captain_.”

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again if you want to keep all your limbs attached.”

“Oh? Have you not heard? I have very thick skin, I think I will be fine if you want to have your little jealous fit.”

“Sasha,” Leon rebuked softly. “Don’t be a dick.”

Sasha did look regretful as his smile faded away. “No worries, Redfield. He is happy,” Sasha assured him, as if this was supposed to make Chris’s – crush? Lust? Attraction? – toward Leon any better.

The look on Chris’s face said it did not work.

“He could be happier,” he told Alexander. And then, like that entire scene had not just happened in front of Leon, he pressed a finger to his ear comm. “Everyone’s on board, let’s get out of here.”

Leon squinted at the captain.

He could be happier?

He turned to Alexander, who only seemed disappointed in Chris.

How? The only way Leon could be happier was if he could escape this hell of BOWs and government corruption, if he could finally stop having fucked up nightmares and get a different job that didn’t threaten his sanity every other day.

He wanted to be happier with Alexander.

Chris fell into a seat, radiating tension. Leon and Rebecca shared a moment of understanding and then the woman went to speak softly with Chris. Leon couldn’t hear their conversation and he didn’t really want to. Chris made some interesting and agitated arm movements to illustrate whatever point he was trying to make.

Leon took a seat far away from him to let him have his privacy. Alexander followed.

“That was cruel of me,” Alexander admitted as soon as he sat down. “I am sorry.”

“I think you have to tell him that.”

“I think he would rather not hear from me ever again.”

“I had that feeling too.”

“I am taking a guess by your reaction that you did not know he has feelings for you?”

“I did not see that coming at all.”

“Thank God,” Alexander praised. “If he had known he had a chance with you before I did, life would be very different and lonely for me right now.”

Leon took a moment to imagine what having Chris for a boyfriend would have been like instead of Alexander.

He saw a lot of arguments, pep talks, and miscommunication.

Yeah, they could have worked through it, Leon thought, already breaking up with imaginary Chris in his head, and they could have had a strong relationship based on honor and duty. He could see them either lifting each other up or dragging each other way, way down. They could be content or abso-fucking-lutely miserable.

“You’re assuming I would have given him a chance.”

“ _Kotya_ , my darling, that man is an entire feast. Not only that, he lives in the same country as you and fights for the same cause.”

Leon studied Alexander’s profile. “I’m tired of fighting, Sasha,” he told him brokenly. “I’m so fucking tired.”

Sasha gazed at him as if tormented. “Come here,” he called softly. He put his arm around Leon’s shoulders and pulled him in so that he rested his head on Sasha’s chest.

It felt rude to do this now, knowing that Chris wanted something from him. Leon pulled away and shook his head. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Alexander agreed. “What can I give you?”

Leon rested his hand on top of their thighs, palm up. Alexander wove their fingers together and then crossed his legs so that Chris would not see them holding hands.

“We’re going to have to talk at some point,” Leon recognized, speaking of the team as a whole.

“We have hours until we get to the States. I believe we can take some time apart.”

Leon looked down at their hands. “I would still choose you.”

“Hm?”

“For a boyfriend. For a partner. Chris and I, we’ve fought together… and we’ve fought each other. I don’t know what he sees in me, but I don’t see it in him.”

“He is very handsome and strong.”

“Yeah? So is my boyfriend. I’ll hit you if you talk shit on him.”

“I am not _that_ strong. Do you think he can lift a car?”

“He punched a boulder once.”

“… Is that… Is that slang?”

“No, he literally punched a boulder.”

“ _Why_?”

“To break it, I think.”

“A boulder?”

“A whole, motherfucking boulder.”

“My arms are cooked noodles,” Alexander complained. “My abs are not defined. He looks like he could bench press a motorcycle.”

“I like you just fine,” Leon repeated with possibly more adoration than he meant to.

“No comment on the cooked noodle arms and undefined abs?”

“It’s alright. Your massive cock makes up for everything else.”

Alexander gasped, scandalized. And then, glumly, “What if his cock is bigger?”

Leon chuffed. “Oh, well, if _that’s_ the case… No, you idiot. I happen to be with you because I love you. Because you’re good to me and you make me feel good. And, for the record? I think you’re sexy as _fuck_. You’ve always been gorgeous to me.” 

Alexander was bashful. “Even when I threatened your life and held a blade to your throat?”

“My first thought when I heard your voice was ‘damnit, he sounds hot’. Then I saw your face and I thought, ‘ _damnit_ , he’s hot’. Once you started talking more, though, I realized you were a dumbass and that helped me get through the mission without making a mess in my pants.” 

Alexander chuckled in his chest, a pleasant rumbling. “Asshole. I recall thinking that you would have been better looking if you were not American.”

“Still American. I guess you’re not with me for my looks.”

“Mm. That ass makes up for your nationality.” Alexander tilted his head, catching his eye. “You know that you are one of the most handsome men I have ever met, yes?”

“Let’s be honest, Sasha, I am _the_ handsomest man you have ever met.”

He chuckled. “I suppose you are not wrong. You are certainly a catch. I am lucky to have caught you.”

“When I start beating the shit out of you because of nightmares again, remind yourself that you just said that.”

“Your fists feel as light as a single sheet of paper,” Alexander waxed poetically. “Your kicks are those of a newborn’s.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Alexander Kozachenko.”

“Which is it? You want to feel bad about hurting me or you want to feel angry that you cannot hurt me?”

Leon paused and thought that over. At last, petulantly, “I guess you’re right.”

“I am often right.” Alexander rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. There was a pause. “I forgot to bring a book.”

~::~

Closer to touchdown in the States, they managed to regroup over blueprints of Dolence’s estate.

“It’s a big property,” Chris told them. “We’ll cover more ground if we split into two teams and check in with each other periodically to make sure no one’s run into trouble.”

Leon nodded, thinking that was for the best. He and Chris had the most senior fighting experience and so Leon should go with Alexander while Chris went with Rebecca –

“I’ll take Kozachenko,” Chris commanded coldly. “Rebecca can go with Leon.”

“Not going to happen,” Leon growled at the same time Alexander muttered, “Is this how I die?”

Rebecca glared at Chris. “I have a better plan!” she decided. “Alexander, you’re with me. Leon and Chris can work together.”

“A good plan,” Alexander agreed as Chris and Leon stared at her blankly. “I like this plan.”

“Alexander should go with me and Rebecca should go with Chris,” Leon argued.

“I’d rather Kozachenko come with me,” Chris snapped.

“Fuck off my boyfriend, Chris.”

“I just want to make sure he can handle himself.”

“He’ll be with me. What, are you doubting _my_ expertise now?”

“I know you’re fully capable of protecting yourself, this has nothing to do with you.”

“So now you’re just straight-up lying to my face?”

Chris’s fist slammed down on the table. “I am leading this mission, my word is final. Rebecca goes with you, Kozachenko comes with me.”

“While you were busy yelling,” Alexander chimed in, “Dr. Chambers and I had a lovely discussion. If I go with Leon, you will get yourself and Rebecca killed. If I go with you, you will get yourself and me killed. If you go with Leon, you will not have to worry about what _I_ am doing with Leon, and you will not be distracted trying to kill me, respectively.” He dipped his chin and lowered his voice. “Also, if you care half as much for Leon as I do, you will not risk his life by screaming at him in hostile territory.”

“I don’t like this,” Leon told him.

“We’ve already decided,” Rebecca said.

“You two don’t have the combat experience we do,” Chris tried to reason. “I’d rather we pair off so that neither of you get caught in a situation you can’t get out of.”

“That includes me?” Alexander asked, brow furrowed in honest curiosity.

Chris pointed at him belligerently, decided against saying whatever he was about to say, and growled instead, “You’re still a civilian.”

“Not of your country.”

“In that case…”

Leon glared at the BSAA captain until he subsided.

“Fine,” the DSO agent gave in. “Everyone, make sure we’re on the same comm channel. Rebecca, Sasha, if you don’t check in every five minutes, I’m assuming you’re in deep shit and we’re dropping everything to get to your location.”

“Every five minutes is excessive,” Alexander told him.

“A lot can happen in five minutes,” Chris snapped at him.

“I assure you, I _know_ what can happen in five minutes. What I am saying is that, for a mission that depends on stealth, getting on the comms every five minutes will put someone in danger.”

“Everyone, stop!” Rebecca took a pencil to the estate maps in front of them and began separating the property into squares. “I am labeling each one. Every _ten_ minutes, we will get on the comms _just_ long enough to say which section we are in so that we are aware of each other’s location.” From the upper left corner of the gridline of the main map, she began with A and then worked to the right. At the upper right corner, she returned to the left underneath the A block and began again. Between the two groups, she split the manor downstairs into six squares, A through F. On the next map with the upstairs, she again split it into six squares, G through L. The third map showed that Dolence had an underground garage and she labeled the entire thing M as it was just one wide space. The surrounding land was left untouched as they were of the consensus that what they were looking for would be inside. Leon and Chris had the ground floor with the theater and ballroom while Rebecca and Alexander had the second floor and the garage.

“The ground floor is where Dolence keeps his guests,” Leon tried to reason with them. “It’ll be low-risk compared to the upstairs where guests aren’t allowed to go. Chris and I should take the second floor.”

“You two need time to talk,” Rebecca told him plainly.

“We really don’t, not right now,” Chris rebuked. “I need time to talk with _Kozachenko_ , but, since that’s not going to happen, then I’m going to side with Leon on this and say that we should switch.”

Alexander caught Leon’s eye. “Save a slow dance for me, _kotya_.”

“We’re talking mission parameters right now, Kozachenko, keep it to yourself,” Chris snapped.

Leon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that Claire would be upset with him for chucking her brother out of a jet over the Atlantic ocean.

Although, the ballroom was right next to the in-home theater.

“I don’t think we’ve ever actually sat down and watched a movie together,” Leon admitted. Alexander read the news via his phone or his newspaper prescription and did not own a television. Leon brought his laptop over to do his own work and research, but he’d never offered to pull up a film.

Alexander blinked at him, expression distant as he thought back to the eight years they had known each other. “We have watched movies in class,” he finally said.   
Which was true. Alexander occasionally borrowed the school television to start up an English-speaking movie for his children, since it was a foolproof method of getting his children to at least read subtitles and take an interest in the language.

“Just us, though?”

Alexander was visibly surprised by this epiphany. He cocked his head to the side and then looked at Leon with astonishment.

“You’ve been together for four years and you’ve never just sat down on the couch and relaxed with a movie in the background?” Chris asked.

“Alexander reads to Leon.”

Leon looked at Rebecca in betrayal.

She didn’t notice because she was eyeing Chris with disappointment. “To help Leon go to sleep.”

“How do you know that?”

“I got to visit once. Alexander has a beautiful reading voice.”

“Thank you, Dr. Chambers.”

“You’re welcome, Alexander. Please, call me Rebecca.”

“Ah, I cannot. The effort and time one puts into getting a doctorate should be acknowledged.” There was longing in his voice.

“Do you want to get a doctorate, Sasha?” Leon asked.

“My school would not be able to pay me if I did, and I would be forced to leave my children. I would rather stay where I am.”

Chris leaned toward Leon. “He has _kids_?”

“I fucking swear, Chris, I will toss you off this jet. He’s talking about his _students_.”

Chris threw his hands up in surrender. “Dancing and movies aside,” he glared at Alexander, “you two should take ground floor.”

“No,” Rebecca and Alexander stated at the same time in the same tone of voice, the tone of voice that said they would not be moved.

“You’re putting us on easy when we’re used to extreme,” Leon growled at them.

“Good,” Alexander replied. “You should get to take it easy.”

His ire melted away. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

God, he wanted to take it easy.

He glanced to the side and Chris was watching him. With obvious reluctance, Chris turned back to the other team. “Fine. We’ll take it easy. We’re trusting you two to take every precaution you can, understood?”

“Of course, captain,” Alexander answered sincerely.

“Understood, _Rebecca_?”

“All of my friends must address me as _Dr._ Rebecca now.”

Leon nodded, impressed. “That’s actually badass… Dr. Rebecca.”

She smiled sweetly at him.

~::~

The BSAA had clearance to land at most air force bases within the United States and to take off from those bases. In this case, D.C. and Nadia got them as far as 167th Airlift Wing in Martinsburg, West Virginia. From Russia to West Virginia in the jet was nine hours.

In West Virginia, Rebecca turned out to have the best credit score and rented an SUV from a Rent-A-Car. As the renter, she claimed that she was the rightful driver and hopped in the front. Alexander and Chris sent each other such glares of distrust that Leon just grabbed Alexander’s hand and pulled him into the backseat with him even though Leon actually would have preferred to sit alone in the front passenger seat.

The problem was that he didn’t trust Alexander and Chris to sit peacefully side by side.

His sacrifice turned out to be well compensated. From Martinsburg to Bridgeport where Dolence’s manor was located was a three-hour journey by car. Only twenty minutes into the drive, Alexander’s head landed on Leon’s shoulder and the man was fast asleep. His arms were crossed over his chest and his brow was pinched with tension even when he was unconscious. Leon looked out the window, watching the road rush by, feeling Alexander’s warm breath huff against his chest.

At one point, he glanced to the front. Chris was staring out his window as well, his shoulders so tense that they were nearly hiked up to his ears. Leon decided that he did not want to know what the captain was thinking about just yet and so turned to Rebecca.

“So, Dr. Rebecca, why not take this time to tell me more about Billy Coen?”

“Where do I even start?” she asked herself more than them.

“Why not at the beginning?” Leon suggested. “We have time.”

“Well, we met in 1998 during my first mission with S.T.A.R.S,” she began. “My team was sent to Raccoon Forest to investigate a string of gruesome murders. He was being transported through on the way to his execution.”

“She’s just a girl. He’s just a boy. How can I make it any more obvious?” Leon quoted in his driest tone of voice.

Rebecca _giggled_. Even Chris snorted.

“Not exactly, but, something like that.” Her voice became wistful. Over the next few miles, she explained getting trapped on the Ecliptic Express, in an Umbrella executive training school, then a chemical plant, and, at last, escaping a treatment plant. None of it, she told them, would have been possible without Billy.

Leon was impressed by the story of Billy’s loyalty and cooperation.

“I said I would lie for him so that he could get away,” she wrapped up the past. “I didn’t think that he would… that he wouldn’t be able to escape.”

“That’s not your fault,” Chris told her. “Don’t take the blame for what Umbrella did.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. I just… we went through so much and this is the reward he gets?”

“You said he’s a Tyrant now?” Leon clarified.

Rebecca nodded, still looking out the windshield. “They call him Tyrant B. Chris was able to obtain a journal for me that had his last known… his last known handler. He’s considered defective because he won’t take commands and acts independently of his handlers, so no one keeps him for long.”

“And the last known handler is Dolence.”

“That’s right.”

Leon huffed. “Every time I learn something new about that guy, it just makes him look worse.”

Rebecca glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “You know a lot about Dolence?” There was a question in her voice.

Leon shrugged and turned back to the window. “Dolence has been raising some red flags with me.”

“The disappearances?” she asked.

Chris tuned in. “What disappearances?”

“Dolence has been accused of rape at least five times since becoming senator. Three of his alleged victims have disappeared in recent years.”

“That’s awful,” Chris said. “I could see why he would be under investigation, but why are you the one investigating?” he directed at Leon.

“Officially, I’m not. I’m invested in the truth because all of his alleged victims are trans men.” Like him, he left unsaid.

There was a deathly silence from the passenger seat in front of him as Chris swallowed that giant pill.

“I don’t know how, but he somehow figured out that I’m trans as well sometime last year. He started misgendering me every opportunity that he got. To make it worse, Smith told the DSO to give me a paid vacation because Dolence asked him to.”

“That’s suspicious,” Rebecca said instantly. “Do you think that… maybe he planned to attack you during your vacation? Maybe he thought that, with how you break off communication during your free time, no one would notice that you were gone for a few days?”

“Then it’s a good thing I was in Eastern Slav Republic the same day my vacation started.”

Chris was moodily quiet. Leon cocked his head and saw that the captain’s hands were white-knuckled fists in his lap.


	6. Lay It Out Correctly

**Terse Dolence**

What no one knew was that Dolence had disconnected his home security system from the local police department. Over the past nine months, he had added a number of zombies to his collection. As Dolence was leaving office, a number of his constituents who apparently did not like him had been attempting to invade and damage his estate. They tried to hang pride flags over his door, put bags of shit on his front step, were spraying graffiti on his home… He once found an entire garbage bag of used tampons and menstrual pads in the circle driveway in front of his manor.

Of course, he also found what was left of the perpetrators.

Instead of contacting the police, Dolence had found it much more effective to let loose his hounds. He kept the garage door open only just one feet so that the zombie dogs and zombie wolves could prowl his estate at night. The trouble was keeping them separate from one another. Despite being infected with the same Recessive species Plaga, the two packs still would attack each other if Dolence was not present to separate them. To avoid this, Dolence had split his property in half and given strict command that each pack remain to its own side. To this effect, he had also had to move the zombie dogs’ containment cubicle to the opposite side of the garage so that the packs, when entering or leaving, never once crossed in front of the other. The wolf pack had their containment cubicle on the right side of the garage and left the garage via the righthand side and they were charged with guarding the land behind his manor. The zombie dogs had their containment cubicle on the left side of the garage, left the garage via the left-hand side, and were charged with guarding the front of his manor.

Since setting up this defense system, Dolence had had much less trouble with intruders. The remains his hounds left behind eventually reanimated and joined his collection.

Perhaps this would eventually lead to Dolence’s downfall. It was not exactly subtle for a senator to have BOWs on their property, tearing apart protesters. However, Dolence’s manor was isolated, his estate circled by tall evergreens, and _wanted_ company only ever arrived at his behest. He had mastered the art of keeping his hounds out while safely getting his special guests inside the manor.

Such as tonight.

Tonight was particularly special to him. Kennedy would be visiting. Undoubtedly, her team would not come knocking at his front door. They would see the open garage as an invitation, the canines a welcoming party to hasten them inside.

“Greury,” he spoke to his guard. Greury’s eyes snapped to him. “Go down to the garage and open the cells for the Whoppers, Lickers, and the undead as well as the hounds tonight.” The Tyrant would have to stay locked up. Dolence had no control of it. He dearly wished he could, since it was the entire reason Kennedy was coming to see him. That would have been poetic.

Outside, cars were pulling up the circle driveway. So many that they had to park in his front yard. He was sure his gardeners could fix that.

“I want my guests to fully appreciate my collection.”

The team had no idea what they were about to run into.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

The SUV was parked a mile away from Dolence’s property and off the road, hidden from anyone who may pass by.

“Probably a good thing he lives out here without any nearby neighbors,” Chris said as they trekked through the forest in the general direction of Dolence’s manor. “To be honest, I’m getting a strong sense of déjà vu. These woods don’t look much different from Raccoon Forest.”

Rebecca shuddered. “Thank you for reminding me.” She swallowed thickly.

“I am reminded of vacationing in Colorado,” Leon informed them. Both Rebecca and Chris gave him tired looks.

Even Alexander sneered at that. “Do not remind me of Colorado.”

“Allow me to recall the miracle of your walking legs,” Leon drawled.

Alexander held up his hands. “Alright, fine. Remind me of Colorado.”

“Your walking legs?” Chris asked.

“I am a medical mystery.”

“Thanks, that explains a lot.”

“Look at us, being cordial. I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Chris gritted his teeth. “They must not have sarcasm where you’re from.”

“We invented it, actually. That is why the art is too fine for you to master.”

Leon rolled his eyes so hard, he saw the back of his head. “Listen, kids, I _will_ put you both in timeout. I’m not interested in watching you two compare dicks the entire night.”

“I don’t want to be mean,” Rebecca added, “but you two are acting ridiculous. Don’t make me split us into teams now.”

“I will behave,” Alexander submitted. He nudged closer to Leon, still glaring at Chris. To his boyfriend, he hissed, “He is going to get us _killed_.”

Leon sincerely fucking hoped not. “He’s been dealing with BOWs ever since they were made,” Leon whispered back, though he knew the other two could hear them. The forest was quiet around them. “Have some faith.”

“I would if he could stop trying to find fault with me for two damn minutes!”

“I’ll set a timer right fucking now, how about that, Kozachenko?” Chris growled. “Two damn minutes are yours as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

Leon was about to bitch-slap the BSAA captain, he really was.

“Guys, wait,” Rebecca whispered. They froze in unison, firearms at the ready.

There was the sound of heavy panting.

It was all the warning they had before a fucking zombie Tibetan mastiff lunged at them.

Leon spun, getting two rounds into its shoulder before it rammed into him. He hit the ground, bringing his arms up to defend his face and throat –

A third bullet went through the hound’s skull at close range before its canines could even clamp down on him.

Chris kicked the hound off of him, pulled him up with one powerful hand, and then turned on Alexander. “Why did you fucking freeze?! You almost got Leon killed!”

Leon had been focused on the hound, he hadn’t even noticed that Alexander had not reacted like the rest of them. His gun hung limply at his side and he stared down at the hound with an expression between fear and disbelief. “I… I am sorry,” he said. “ _Kotya_ , are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Leon grunted. He shoved Chris’s hand off of him. “Stop attacking my boyfriend, _Redfield_. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He was the closest one to you and he just watched that dog drag you down! He’s going to get Rebecca killed if he stays on this mission.”

“We’re not sending him back alone, dumbass, we just got attacked by _one_ dog. Where there’s one, there’s more!”

“Why is there a pack of zombie dogs here?” Rebecca asked the question softly, almost as if to herself, and yet it stopped the argument cold.

Leon and Chris looked at each other.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Leon growled.

“There isn’t a secondary location,” Chris groused back. “He’s keeping the BOWs in his house.”

“Billy could be here!” Rebecca looked at them with hope.

“When you found that journal that said Dolence had Billy,” Leon began to ask Chris, “did it happen to tell you what _else_ Dolence had?”

Rebecca shook her head.

Chris answered, “More than likely, Dolence has made more than one black market purchase.”

“So you _didn’t_ know he had hounds somewhere?”

“No! No, I would have mentioned that had I known.” Rebecca was noticeably unhappy with this development.

Leon grimaced. “And we’re in the middle of the forest, screaming at each other.”

“Sitting ducks. We’re about to get overrun,” Chris finished the thought.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m the one who has to suffer when you two argue,” Rebecca admitted sadly. The first howl was heard as hounds came for them.

Alexander was staring in the direction of the manor, still hidden from them.

Leon put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, nudging him. “We have to go, Sasha, and fast.” Rebecca and Chris were already beginning to run. Leon heard a hound bray and shook Sasha until the man looked at him. “Babe, _move_ ,” Leon ordered, suddenly afraid that Alexander couldn’t handle this, that they had both overestimated what Alexander’s mind could take without breaking. “We have to go.”

Alexander nodded vaguely and they dashed off in pursuit of their team members.

They burst through the trees and right into a half circle of zombie dogs, more Tibetan mastiffs as well as Irish Wolfhounds and Newfoundlands. The mastiff threw its entire weight at Chris –

It missed. It tripped or it was blind or… something. Where its massive canines should have snapped clean through Chris’s raised forearm, it landed, instead, right next to Chris, and began snarling and biting at the grass.

Leon stared incredulously as the entire pack of zombie dogs began to have fits. Snapping at the air, snarling, whining, they eventually turned on _each other_ , and Leon watched at the seven canines tore one another to bloody, rotten pieces.

His firearm dropped to his side, his senses going wild as he tried to understand what he was seeing, if these zombie canines had really just killed themselves –

A howl of such volume that it vibrated in his ears sounded just to the left of them. Leon watched blankly as a zombie wolf paced only feet away from them, as if stopped by some unseen barrier. Its left eye was cloudy white and bulbous and yet still full of hate.

“Quickly,” Alexander said against his ear, a hand coming around Leon’s wrist. “The garage is straight ahead. It is open!”

“Something’s not right here, we shouldn’t move forward,” Chris growled.

Rebecca was already running for it.

Leon shrugged with great irritation and chased after her, Alexander at his side. Chris cursed like he had been in the Navy instead of the Air Force as he pulled up the rear and guarded their backs.

The zombie wolves stayed on their left the entire time, galloping after them. Why weren’t they attacking?

And then Rebecca went to slide on her belly into the garage, the space between the door and the concrete floor maybe a foot if that, just enough for the canines to squeeze through.

Her hand stretched out too far, across that unseen barrier, and Leon knocked three bullets into the wolf’s head that lunged for her. He sent two into the next and then his round was empty as a third wolf stalked Rebecca into the garage. Leon and Alexander slid under the door and came up the other side with guns aimed.

Rebecca had turned toward the wolf, pistol out, and three Saint Bernards appeared from the left behind her, salivating as they came for her.

Leon had already reloaded his firearm and Rebecca had taken out one, two hounds, and Chris was – Chris was too fucking thick to go under the garage, _damn it_.

Leon didn’t see a door control anywhere, even though one should classically be next to or near the door it controlled. Chris had to roll across the ground when three wolves realized his vulnerable position. He wrapped one trunk-thick arm around a wolf’s neck and twisted sharply, dropping it to the side, and Leon took out a second that nearly had its fangs in Chris’s ankle.

With little choice, he sprinted back to the garage door, slid underneath, and came back out at Chris’s side.

He got to one knee, firearm out, and…

The last two zombie wolves that had been circling Chris were laying down like good puppies. The snarling had stopped, the baying, the barking. They were quiet and behaved, worthy of a treat if only they weren’t man-eating monsters.

Leon turned on his knee to aim under the garage door, hoping that Alexander and Rebecca had been able to protect one another.

He saw Rebecca’s face, her eyes wide and lips parted as she stared up at Alexander, whose back was to Leon. There were only three dogs left inside and they were all laying down patiently.

“What are they doing?” Chris asked softly.

“I have no fucking clue.” Leon carefully got to his feet. “Dr. Rebecca? Sasha? Do you see the controls for the garage door anywhere?”

Neither of them reacted to him.

“Alexander! Rebecca!”

Rebecca’s eyes so very slowly rolled away from Alexander to Leon.

She was afraid.

And then, the garage door slammed shut.

~::~

**Rebecca Chambers**

Rebecca flinched at the garage door slammed shut. Alexander’s glowing red eyes shot past her deeper into the cavernous room, face set in such serious lines that Rebecca could have believed he was about to fight his greatest foe. She could hear from somewhere, echoing off the concrete structure of the room, the hungry groans of the undead.

Hesitantly, she followed the line of his glare, turning her body around. Having the man at her back raised every hair on her body, every nerve jumping to escape.

The zombie Saint Bernards laid submissively at his feet, as if he controlled them. She knew, though, she knew that he couldn’t be. Right? He had showed no signs of hosting a Plaga last year.

That was true, she thought to himself. He _had_ showed signs that he wasn’t what he seemed anymore, though.

She should have run that DNA test, she berated herself. She should have been more curious about the mystery of Alexander Kozachenko. His miraculous ability to walk after his immobilizing spinal injury. His unnaturally thick skin like. And now this.

Rebecca should have made time for him.

As she turned around, she took in that the garage was not one large space as blueprints had led her to believe. To the left side and the right side were thick metal walls, both with a single door thrown open. She stood near some of the seven vehicles stored in the underground garage and then, toward the back of the room, was a lounge area that had been designated by an expensive looking carpet and a fully stocked bar.

At the lounge area stood a tall man with cropped blonde hair. Rebecca recognized him from her research of Dolence; this was his head of security, Harold Greury. The man stood too far away for her to be sure and yet, the way he held himself, the pinpoints of red she made out to be his eyes, made her believe that the situation she had brought her team into was far more serious than she had first believed.

“Do you have them, Greury?” asked a voice she was familiar with. It was Dolence.

Greury raised his phone to his mouth. It was on speaker. “I have Kozachenko and Chambers,” he answered tonelessly. Their conversation was overly loud in the concrete and metal cavern.

A hand landed on Rebecca’s shoulder, making her jump. Her head jerked to the side to find that Alexander was staring at Greury with mounting fury. “They knew we were coming,” he hissed to Rebecca.

He was acting… fine. Well, not fine. The situation was far from fine. Healthwise, though, he wasn’t pale, his eyes weren’t bloodshot, and his veins were not protruding. The red glow was coming only from his irises. He also seemed to be in complete control of himself, his hand gentle on her and his entire focus on the other man.

“Chris is with her, then?” Dolence continued.

“Her?” Rebecca called. “I’m the only woman on the team,” she said more quietly to Alexander.

She was ignored by Greury and Dolence. Alexander, however…

The fury bled out of him, replaced by – by sheer _terror_.

“Yes,” Greury answered.

Alexander attacked his comm, bringing it to his mouth. “ _Kotya_! Kotya, respond, now!”

There was only radio static.

“Was that Kozachenko trying to use his radio?”

“Yes.”

“Did he fail?”

“Yes.”

“It’s good to know that the transmitter I paid for is good for something. I _was_ worried that it would make phone calls impossible, but it seems to be doing exactly what I wanted it to do.”

Alexander cursed viciously, fist white-knuckled around the radio.

“Hm. I imagine it only takes one,” Dolence said cheerfully. “Let them die. Ah – Kozachenko, can you hear me? I am glad we didn’t work out.” His voice was sugary sweet. “I look forward to spending more time with Kennedy. I know she’ll look forward to it too, soon enough.”

Rebecca’s heart tripped in her chest, ice flowing through her veins. She swallowed thickly. “You won’t get the chance!” she yelled, because she needed him to hear her through that phone, she needed him to know that he would fail. “Leon will fight you every step of the way.”

“They all do at first, Dr. Chambers,” Dolence told her in a patient tone. “And then they realize that they love the way I treat them.”

Alexander was hyperventilating. Rebecca could hear his every breath snarling between his clenched teeth, his face twisted and ferocious like a beast.

“At least you had some time to enjoy the unforeseen benefits of my gift, Kozachenko. It’s unfortunate that I went to such great lengths to give you one of my hard-earned Plaga and I never even got to use you… I suppose I will settle for the next best plan. Are all the cells open, Greury?”

“Yes.”

“Good! Please return to the ballroom, then. Let my other pets have their fun.”

Greury ended the call and put his phone in his back pocket. And then he… stood there. Unmoving. Waiting.

Alexander’s hand on Rebecca’s shoulder squeezed once. “Dr. Chambers… I thought you said that I have no Plaga.”

“You don’t! Or, at least, I thought you didn’t. Not unless…”

“Unless?” he prompted with a cold sort of softness, like falling asleep naked in the snow.

“Not unless the Plaga inside of you mutated beyond recognition?”

Alexander was quiet for a long moment. Rebecca could not help but notice that they were… not dead? She glanced to the sides and saw that they most certainly should be. To her right on the ceiling, four Lickers were on standby, facing them. Laying patiently on the floor were the three zombie dogs. Through the left doorway stood such large, bloated zombies that she could barely make out more than the bellies of two of them. Whipping her head to the other side, she saw a small, pitiful horde of undead crawling through the door at a glacial speed. They were so torn to pieces that they were barely functioning at all. It was their groans that echoed through the garage.

All of the bio-organic weapons, not including the average-sized zombies, were perfectly still. Even Greury continued to not move.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath of air, like a gasp. “You’re controlling all of them. Aren’t you?”

“Dr. Chambers,” he whispered in a harsh voice. “Do not let me become a monster. Do not let Leon see me become a monster. Promise me.”

Rebecca looked him in the eye. He was… fine. Glowing red irises aside.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that,” she told him honestly.

“Dolence put a _Plaga_ inside of me… I do not know when or how, and yet – !”

“And yet, it backfired. Look around you! You’re controlling Whoppers, Lickers, and zombie dogs! You’re controlling him!” She pointed at Greury. “Whatever Dolence did to you, I don’t think he meant to make you stronger than him. But you are.”

“It is a matter of distance. I am closer, they listen to me.”

“Why would they listen to someone with a Recessive Plaga?” she pointed out softly. Confusion drew his brows together, head twitching to the side as he tried to figure that one out. She grabbed his upper arms and pulled on him. “He wants to hurt Leon, Alexander. We have to move.”

Alexander looked around at his many subordinates. With a glance, he set the Lickers after the regular zombies. The echoes of their hissing and screeching made Rebecca grit her teeth. The groaning of the undead tapered off.

“There is more down here,” he told her. “I can feel them.”

“Them?”

His eyes wandered to his left. “Them,” he repeated definitively.

As a unit, they moved.

Alexander made no sound, no hand motion, did not even tilt his head, and yet the Whoppers blocking the door moved back and allowed them entrance. There were three of them, scraps of clothing barely clinging to their rotting, bulbous bodies. Rebecca’s breathing stuttered, not just by the smell, but by standing so close to something that would usually try to fit her entire body down its throat in one mouthful.

Within, there were seven transparent cells. She was horrified at the sight of a Queen Plaga placidly laying eggs, her cell covered in slime and unborn parasites. Fur and gore were smeared inside another cell, where the zombie hounds would usually be, she imagined. Clothing and gore in another cell, three golden plaques on the side. She meant to read them, she did, except –

“Billy,” she whispered.

Tyrant-B was still locked in his cell. He stared at her with impossibly dark and familiar eyes.

Defective, she remembered. Would not listen to commands. Of course, Dolence had not allowed his cell to be unlocked. This was the one item in his collection he could not control. Everything else had apparently taken to a Recessive Plaga.

Well, not everything else. Something different had occurred with Alexander. Had, perhaps, the Dominant Plaga Type 4 species he had injected himself with years ago had some sort of lasting effect on him that had changed the biological makeup of the Recessive Plaga Type – and she cast a quick glance to study them closely – 1? The more she learned, the more she realized two things: One, she despised Dolence; and two, Alexander was something completely new to the world of bioterrorism.

She rushed to Billy’s cell, staring at him with disbelief.

“What are you _doing_?” Alexander hissed. His eyes kept returning with despair to the Queen Plaga. “I cannot reach him. Your Billy will not listen to me. We must get back to Leon and Redfield. We can come back later. _Rebecca_!” He had obviously only planned on staying long enough to know what was behind the wall and no longer.

She slammed her fists against Billy’s cell. “I’m not leaving him again!” Her voice echoed in the corridor-like section of the garage. “I left him once and _this_ happened,” she told Alexander softly. She closed her eyes and her head thumped against the container. “What if he’s gone when we come back?”

She heard Alexander’s audible gasp. Opening her eyes, she saw thick, tattered leather gloves, part of the Tyrant B’s attire, pressed up against the wall just opposite of her own hands. Her eyes continued up until she was looking into the Tyrant’s gaze.

His mouth was lipless, teeth bared. For a moment, his jaw opened and shut, air escaping him as a hissing groan. And then, shocking Rebecca almost to tears, “Reeee….beeeee….ccaaaaaaa…”   
“Billy!”

She turned back to Alexander with determination. “He’s coming with me,” she told him. “If Greury unlocked all the other cells, he can unlock this one too. Get him in here!”

Alexander stared at her with those inhuman eyes, unblinking. A moment later, Greury marched into the room. His hand slid smoothly into his jacket and he pulled out a strange-looking key that he gave to Rebecca.

“He is yours,” Alexander told her coldly. “Now let me get back to mine.” He began to stomp off and yet, before he could leave the room, his head whipped back around to those golden plaques.

Rebecca hurried to unlock Billy’s cell.

She swung the door open. Billy stepped free and then there was nothing between them.

Behind her, she heard Alexander curse in a voice as if someone had stabbed him. “Dr. Chambers,” he called.

“Yes?” she answered, distracted as Billy – what Billy was now – oh-so gently gave her a questioning thumb’s up. Shakily, she returned it.

“I have found the missing men.”

“What? Wait, what?” Rebecca managed to jerk her head around, though it took actual effort. She had worked endlessly to find Billy and he was here now. More than that, he appeared to remember her? It was so much more than she had hoped for tonight.

And the stakes were so much higher. Somewhere in Dolence’s manor, Leon and Chris were walking straight into a trap. They had to move.

Alexander’s hand was dragging over the golden plaques. With his other hand, he gestured to the Whoppers.

For a long moment, Rebecca didn’t understand. When she did, her hand flew to her mouth in terror. “He – he… Oh my _God_.”

“And to add insult to injury,” Alexander told her in a quiet, furious voice, “these are not even their correct names.”

A large hand landed on Rebecca’s upper arm. Billy was trying to comfort her.

Alexander moved away from the plaques and looked up at the Whoppers with regret. If anything of Kint, Belmont, or Trevue still existed in those corpses, Rebecca was unable to recognize it.

Alexander threw one last glare at _Las Plagas_. “We must move. Now.”

Rebecca cast a look at Billy – would he follow her? Would he leave? Would he stay? – and found the Tyrant looking readily down at her.

She thought of them on that night a lifetime ago, cooperating together.

“Follow me,” she told him softly.

Slowly, he bobbed his head.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy, as the garage door slams shut…**

“No!” Chris threw himself at the sheet of metal, his slamming fists echoing across the entire property. Leon caught him by the shoulder and dragged at him.

“We have to find another way in!”

The wolves around them began to lift their heads. One growled ferociously at them.

Whatever had made them behave was starting to lose its effect, Leon realized. They had to go and _fast_.

Chris cursed and they began a fast jog around the back of property, looking for the nearest window.

“What do you say, ready for some good old-fashioned property damage?” Chris asked. “Senator’s got BOWs on his property, I don’t think we’ll get jail time for a broken window.”

Leon heard the snarling of the hounds. “I don’t believe you, but, what the hell – I want to live. Get us in there, Redfield.”

The larger man used the butt of his rifle to shatter the glass and then cleared the ledge of large pieces. He heaved himself inside, fingerless gloves protecting him from shards, and Leon was seconds behind him and not a moment too soon. He felt a large body just under the toe of his boot before the dog jerked around to grab his ankle and narrowly missed him twice.

The parlor they landed in had been lovely until the broken glass.

It only got worse when the two wolves leaped in after them.

“ _Fuck_.”

In the aftermath of putting down the bad puppies, the room was smeared with blood and smelled of rot.

“Silencers on the firearms was a good idea,” Leon said into the quiet, and he meant it sarcastically given that they didn’t have silencers on their firearms. Even if they had, every step they had taken since leaving their SUV had been loud as hell.

“Someone knows we’re here.”

Leon gave Chris a pissed-off look. “Yeah, so much for stealth.”

“Hey, you told me to get us in here!”

“ _That_ , right fucking _there_ , is why our cover has been blown!” Leon snarled. “You won’t stop _yelling_. Use your inside voice, Redfield.”

The captain sneered and turned his back on Leon.

They inspected the parlor, noting a false fireplace and a circular couch in front of it. There was beautiful art on the walls.

Chris returned to him, repentant. “I’m sorry. I’m putting us in danger by not controlling my emotions. I’ve got a handle on it now, though, so let’s move out and regroup.”

The bodies of the hounds twitched, and then began to spasm.

Leon watched on in dread as their heads completely exploded and were replaced with a blob of slick-looking flesh and writhing tentacles.

“Shit,” he cursed softly. “That’s a Plaga.”

“I told Rebecca we should have waited another month.”

“Watch out for the tentacle that looks like a scythe.” Leon cocked his gun and barely dodged backward as the weaponized tentacle chopped at him.

The bodies got clumsily to their feet, tentacles writhing, and Leon stared at the busted window in a moment of horrid realization.

There were more canine corpses out there. Unable to get back into the garage, they were going to find another way in.

“Jesus Christ!” Chris snarled, pistol going off again.

They downed one of the Plaga, always _just_ avoiding the tentacles that could kill them with one slash. When Leon saw more tentacles wavering outside the window, he knew it was time to bail the parlor and make due with whatever else Dolence had in his manor. “Out, now!” he called to Chris. They fell back to the door, twisted it open, and tumbled into the corridor. Chris kicked the door shut in front of them, a scythe-like tentacle stabbing straight through the wood and getting caught.

They stared at it, panting. The door rattled against Chris’s boot and that was when they came to the unspoken decision to get up and run like hell.

“Stairs!” Leon hissed lowly, every footfall fast and quiet. Chris sounded like a bull behind him, having never been made for covertness. That was fine, Leon decided. Their cover had been blown before they even got on the property.

“Right behind you,” Chris told him.

Leon clicked on his radio, meaning to get a hold of Sasha and Rebecca, meaning to make sure they were alright –

Radio static. No matter how he changed the station. As if there was a transmitter nearby jamming all channels.

Leon was beginning to suspect that, just maybe, Dolence had been _expecting_ company.

As fast as they were going, it was Chris’s hand on his shoulder that jerked him to a stop as a pair of double doors suddenly flew open right in front of them.

Democratic representative-elect Gina Telly stepped into the corridor and stared at them.

Her eyes were red.

“No,” Leon whispered. “Oh, fuck, no.”

“Fucking Plagas,” Chris hissed.

Democratic representative Shiori Tsu came to Telly’s side, her eyes also red. Democratic representative Michael Vengo came up behind them, those same red eyes.

“Dolence is trying to take control of the government,” Chris realized. He began to lift his firearm, stopped, and put it back down. More democratic representatives were appearing, fifteen packing into the corridor.

“Any chance we can cure them?” Chris asked.

“There’s a chance,” Leon allowed. “If they let us.”

The representatives moved in a wave, clearing a path that curved into the room they had just come from – the theater.

“Any ideas that don’t include killing our government body?” Chris muttered to him.

“Non-lethal force.”

“I was hoping for a little more input than that.”

“You asked for _any_ ideas, not _good_ ideas.”

And still, more representatives were in the corridor, coming around their side and then behind them. At least thirty now, Leon estimated

Leon had faced odds like this before – but fighting these people meant putting the House of Representatives in danger. Every life they took tonight would have to be replaced in government. Not only that, but the scandal of a BSAA agent and a DSO agent singlehandedly attempting democratic genocide on a republican senator’s property could start a civil war in the current political climate.

Leon and Chris had very few choices and none of them were ideal.

“On three.” Chris holstered his pistol and fell into a fighting stance. The bodies around them snarled at them, men and women Leon had voted for gearing up to tear them apart. Leon dropped into his own starting position, and the Plaga-infected representatives growled at him.

There was a pause.

“ _Three_!”

Chris and Leon lunged in different directions and the infected were only moments slower in reacting.

It very quickly became apparent that Leon and Chris were not going to win this.

Leon was reminded of fighting zombies back-to-back with the captain when they were in New York, trying to get to Arias and Rebecca. They had been continuously and overwhelmingly swarmed in the lower levels of Arias’s tower and yet, not once had those zombies gotten the better of them.

The difference between then and now was that these weren’t zombies, first of all. They weren’t limited to a slow, clumsy gait and they were not aiming to use teeth alone to tear Chris and Leon apart. They were fast, and they attacked like they had a vendetta against the two men – no particular fighting finesse so much as sheer determination and an inability to stay down.

Which led to the second dilemma: There was nothing Leon and Chris could do to _make_ them stay down. Every chokehold, every hit, every kick, ever toss and lunge and roll, only paused the representatives for a minute, maybe two. Any greater damage would put their lives at risk and Leon and Chris had to operate under the assumption that they could save the government bodies or else risk the stability of Congress.

Maybe if it had been a handful of representatives, they would have taken that risk. They were losing and losing _fast_. Leon was swarmed to the ground when he failed to snap a woman’s neck to save his own life.

From the floor, Leon couldn’t count heads – he had to assume that close to fifty democratic representatives were infected with Recessive species Plagas.

Once they had him down, the frenzied rage of their motions stopped. They stayed braced on top of him, holding down his legs and arms. Someone heavy was kneeling on his back to the point of pain and hands pushing his head into the carpet until his face burned.

He made an attempt at an escape, jerking his body, and then had to suck his breath in fast when his left arm was yanked up his back toward his shoulders, almost popping it out of place. In another minute, all of the representatives fell quiet and still.

Leon licked his lips. “Chris?”

Somewhere, a distance away, the captain called back roughly. “You okay, Leon?”

His body felt bruised and yet, as far as he knew, nothing was broken. Nothing had been torn off.

The infected had shown as much care toward them as they had toward the infected and that was… that was not good. That meant that he and Chris were wanted for something.

“For now,” he answered. “You?”

“Could be better,” Chris said. “Carpet’s not that comfortable. Why do rich people invest in carpets that aren’t comfortable?”

“Oh, yeah. First concern of the wealthy should be, ‘Can I lay down in the middle of my hallway and go to sleep on this carpet’ when making interior design choices.”

“I knew you’d agree.”

Joking aside, they were in a really fucking awful position.

The infected didn’t seem to mind them talking as long as they didn’t move.

“Maybe we should have used _some_ lethal force,” Chris admitted.

“I voted for Nadia Cortez. You are _not_ killing her.”

“I don’t think we have time to go down the list of our least favorite representatives to see who we are and aren’t willing to kill.”

“We have plenty of time right now,” Leon argued. “I make a great couch. These guys aren’t moving anytime soon.”

“Connecticut representative Terry West is laying down on me. I must be the world’s most comfortably bed.”

“That sucks.” Terry West was a very heavyset man. “How are you even breathing?”

“Very fucking carefully.”

“Well, since we’re here – Terry West. Yay or nay?”

“What’s his stance in veteran affairs? Do you know?”

“I think he served in the Navy?”

“Fuck. I can’t kill him.”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

They got through five other representatives, two they admitted they would reluctantly be okay with replacing if needs must, when the infected suddenly moved as one mindset.

Leon was bodily lifted off the ground, arms wrapped tightly around every limb, his torso, and even around his neck. His vision greyed around the edges, spots dancing in his vision, and, yeah, he got the hint: Don’t fight back.

His entourage turned back into the theater, walking down a red carpet to the stage. He assumed that Chris was being dragged or carried somewhere behind him.

On the stage in front of the movie screen, framed to one side by a dark green velvet curtain, sat Senator Terse Dolence. His skin was sullen, his eyes red, and he watched with a fatherly affection as Leon and Chris were brought to him.

Leon’s legs were suddenly dropped as his upper body was lowered. His knees hit the hardwood stage with bruising force. He gurgled as the arms around his neck failed to follow the motion, his head turning against his will, and he had the briefest moment to think that Barry Snart, the youngest representative in Congress and who was openly gay, was about to snap his neck.

Snart released him, fortunately, and Leon wheezed as air finally returned to his lungs. Hands landed on his head, his shoulder, forcing him to sit on his knees. His arms were grabbed and pulled behind his back, a body kneeling directly behind him. He was forced to arch his torso forward and he… he did not like that. He did not like that Dolence watched him with happy little eyes.

Leon turned his head and found Chris in a – a different position. Perhaps not a dignified position, seeing as how Terry West had sat back down on him, but definitely a different position. Chris had been forced flat on his belly, legs stretched out behind him, and it was by sheer strength and the breadth of his chest that he was able to lift his head up and glare fire at Dolence. The infected found him to be a very comfortable couch and used their own weight to hold the captain down.

He was so swarmed that his head was the only clear part of him Leon could make out. His ribs had to feel like they were going to collapse between the weight of the House of Representatives and the hardwood floor.

Leon began to face the implications of why he was being forced to kneel and thrust his chest toward a man accused of assaulting trans men while the cisgendered captain was not.

This was exactly what Alexander had been afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this story about Plagas, I failed to fully comprehend the hole I was digging myself into. I have yet to read the book adaptation of RE4, have not played RE4, and have not even watched the gameplay for RE4. It has been years since I last saw Resident Evil: Damnation. I have had to keep tweaking this plot as I continue to research exactly what a Plaga is. All that said, I have no idea what someone infected with a Plaga is capable of while being controlled?   
> Just a heads up: The next chapter is rough. The next chapter is where Dolence and Leon are in the same room and Dolence has power over Leon. But, don't worry. The next chapter is also where Dolence dies. Remember, Dolence dies in the end. 
> 
> Have a happy holiday! For the holiday, may I please have comments and kudos?


	7. Create Interesting Characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Dolence attempts to rape Leon in this chapter and there is some non-consensual touching. Leon is not forced to touch Dolence, but it is a VERY NEAR thing. This is also the chapter where Dolence dies. BEHOLD, THE TIME HAS COME. 
> 
> Leon may seem out of character. Sorry, it was the only way I could write him this chapter. A happy holiday to everyone!

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

“Captain Chris Redfield,” Dolence greeted. “Miss Kennedy.”

“ _His_ name is _Leon_ ,” Chris snarled.

“Not right now, Chris,” Leon hissed. As much as he respected Chris for coming to his defense, he would rather he _not_ when they were up against a fucking transphobic rapist who happened to have control of at least an eighth of the House of Representatives majority.

“No, it’s quite alright, Miss Kennedy. It’s fine that he wants to defend your honor. It doesn’t hurt me, it only hurts you. The downfall of good friends and family is that they want you to be happy and yet they fail to understand that letting you ruin your beauty and reputation to feel like a man is damaging for you in the long run. I don’t blame him, I blame you for his behavior.”

A knife appeared in Leon’s vision – _his_ knife – and rested with the sharp tip digging into his collarbone. Leon gritted his teeth.

“I’m a big boy, I can take my own punishments,” Chris snapped. “You think I did wrong, then you can correct me, not him.”

“You will both learn better this way,” Dolence told them. He tilted his head. “Just to get it out of the way, Dr. Chambers and Kozachenko are already dead.”

“ _What_?” Chris roared. Leon felt something reach into his chest and jerk his heart out of place. He was abruptly cold and sweating at the same time and he felt, for a moment, that he might actually be dying.

Dolence nodded. “Once I knew you were coming, I got my estate ready to receive you. I had guessed you wouldn’t be using the front door and I was right. I am surprised that your entire team made it as far as the garage, to be honest, but… I keep an impressive collection of pets in my garage. _Las Plagas_ are just one of them. I can tell you for certain, your friends are dead. My condolences.”

There was, for a moment, only Chris’s harsh breathing as he tried to come to terms with losing two teammates. Leon had entered a state of numbness, channeling a previously unknown ability to step outside of his body and watch his life go by without actually experiencing it.

“How did you know we were coming?” Chris demanded to know at last, his voice hoarse as if he had been screaming in his head. Or maybe that was just the weight of the House crushing his chest.

Leon stared at Dolence, still processing those words he had spoken. Alexander, dead? His lover, dead?

“Well, Miss Kennedy told me,” Dolence informed them cheerfully.

“ _Leon_ would never do something like that!”

“Never on purpose, I know. Let me explain – from the moment I received _Las Plagas_ , I knew that my greatest predicament was going to be Miss Kennedy. Not that I knew she wasn’t a man at first, but I figured it out over time as I decided on how to keep her out of my business. I have several contacts who were able to give me access to her phone: Her phone calls, her text messages, her video chats… _Everything_.”

Dolence had killed Alexander.

And… he had access… to everything?

“I have been _thoroughly_ enjoying myself. Thank you,” and he said this to Leon, “for being such a naughty girl.”

Leon hated every fucking “miss” and “girl” and “she/her” that fell out of his mouth like acid that burned him, but it was the implications of what he had just said that made him seethe with rage.

“Those weren’t for _you_.” Leon bared his teeth at the perverse old man.

“If you hadn’t wanted men to see them, you shouldn’t have taken such dirty little pictures to begin with. If it makes you feel any better,” he was smirking, “some of the videos you took were of incredible pornographic quality. When all is said and done here tonight, you _will_ make me a very happy man.”

“You sick, lowdown, _unbelievable_ – ” Leon did not see Chris’s head get hit, but he heard the bang of his solid skull bouncing off the floor. “ _Sonofabitch!_ ”

“Actually,” Leon told Dolence coolly, “I’m going to spend my every waking moment, and most of my dreaming ones, making your life as miserable as mine.”

“Your kind always change your mind.”

“ _My kind_?”

“You confused lot, yes. You will learn to enjoy it, I promise you. The others did, eventually, one way or another.”

Leon grinded his teeth. “Nothing I’m confused about except how you convinced yourself that anyone would touch you willingly.”

“You’ll see. While on the subject of being confused, however, I do find that I have my own questions. My first is, did Kozachenko act any differently when you went to go see him on December 15th?”

Leon stared blankly at him.

“Kozachenko. He should have completely ruined you…” Dolence’s glowing red eyes checked his watch. “Two days ago.”

“Kozachenko is in on this with you?” Chris cursed. “Then why did you kill him?!”

“Sasha isn’t working with him,” Leon corrected him coldly. “That’s not what Dolence is talking about.” He was thinking of something Sasha had said to him a year ago, after Rebecca had told them that he didn’t have a Plaga. Sasha had said that the one thing they knew for sure was that Leon was not involved.

And yet, here he kneeled, and he was directly involved. He was the very _reason_.

“You put a Plaga in him,” Leon said. “Let me guess, this was last year in October?”

“It’s the legs that gave it away, isn’t it? I was delighted to hear that he was walking again after his visit here. I wasn’t expecting it, but I thought only good things could follow.”

 _His visit here_. Which meant that, somehow, Dolence had had Alexander brought to America.

Had it been that weekend just before their lives had become chaotic and new? That weekend where Alexander thought he had had a fever and remembered nothing?

It made sense. With the Plaga, either Dolence would have had to go to Eastern Slav Republic or bring Alexander to him. Dolence was not the kind of garbage to inconvenience himself, so he would have taken the second option.

“I was, admittedly, not very good with _Las Plagas_ back then. I had no idea what I was doing.” Dolence gave a fatherly smile, a ‘how silly I can be’ grin. “I’ve learned since. I’m not surprised that my instructions were not met. To be honest, I’m not even upset that they weren’t met. I was jealous of what he was going to do to you even as I gave him the commands.”

He clenched his jaw to hold back his pain – _Sasha was dead_ – because he couldn’t _deal_ with that right now. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had to focus. He and Chris had to save the day and live for the people that hadn’t made it.

“You suggested my vacation knowing that I would leave the country, and then you hosted your Plaga party with as many democratic representatives as you could fit in your ballroom so that you can gain control of the majority House.”

“That was impressive, agent! How did you figure all of that out?”

“Well… My first hint was that you hosted a ball and I wasn’t invited. And then I just happened to notice that you’re using House majority members to hold us down so you can talk shit about me to my face without getting hit.” Chris hooted from behind him. Dolence’s amused expression melted into annoyance. “From what I remember of the guest list, these are the same people who attended your ball.”

“Why would you try to take control of the House instead of the Senate?” Chris groused. “House majority is over two hundred and thirty people. The Senate would be much easier to manage.”

“I am in the Senate, captain, I’m tired of it. Besides, there is always an opportunity to branch out later.”

Leon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It sounds like your problems are with me,” He said with a lot more confidence than he felt. “There’s no reason for you to keep Chris here.”

“Leon, you bastard, I’m not leaving you here – ”

“There’s _nothing_ you can do!” Leon glared at him. “There is nothing you can do to save me. Just get the hell out when you can.”

“I’m not abandoning you, get that through your thick skull! If you suffer, I suffer.”

Leon swallowed. “I don’t think you’re his type, Chris. I don’t think you can share in this.”

The idea of them both being assaulted brought him a shameful kind of comfort – at least he wouldn’t be suffering alone – and yet he knew that Dolence did not want that from the captain.

“I believe having the BSAA on my side will be very useful.” Dolence bobbed his head as he built future plans around this idea. Eventually, he nodded. “Yes. You will both be my pets.” He turned a hand toward one of the representatives standing to the side of the stage. The infected turned away and left the theater with a small group of three behind her. “They will be back shortly with your Plagas,” Dolence informed them warmly.

The hold on Leon’s arms pressed inward and Leon was forced to push his chest out further. Dolence watched with pleasure.

“Leave him alone!” Chris roared.

“Please, Captain Redfield, save your breath. Representative West is not a light man.”

The knife at Leon’s collarbone jerked, cutting into his skin as it was pulled forcefully down the front of his body. The burn of the blade was overwhelmed by the humiliation Leon felt when his tops were destroyed and fell open like a robe, revealing the slopes of his breasts.

He couldn’t fully control his breathing. He tried to stay calm, to take deep, even breaths, and yet his breathing was spiraling out of control as hands grappled at the torn halves and pulled them back.

“Do you know how to write a play?” Dolence asked them randomly. He gestured to the stage they were on and smiled. “I don’t, sadly. I never excelled at the humanities. I only enjoyed them for the sake of social gatherings. However…” His blue eyes trailed over Leon. “I am thinking that this would be the climax. When the orchestra hits that crescendo and then everything gets quiet, the audience waiting on baited breath for the main character’s emotional response following the last major event of the production.” Dolence glanced from face to face of the Plaga-infected horde and then returned to Leon. “Well? How do you feel?”

Leon stared up and just past Dolence, not looking at anyone.

Rage and helplessness and _fear_ made Leon want to throw up, to cry, and pride kept him from reacting at all as everything in his body rebelled.

His mind reached for a rescue buoy and a memory surfaced.

Alexander loved his breasts. Once upon a time, when Leon had shown up in a button-down shirt, Alexander had faked a coughing fit so that Leon would lean down to check on him. This had been when Alexander was in his wheelchair.

As Leon had leaned over, Alexander had caught his hands on the lapels of Leon’s button-down and _pulled_ , jerking the two halves apart. Buttons had flown, one of them had smacked Alexander in the cheek in a very embarrassing way, and Leon had stared down at him, flabbergasted by the needless destruction of his shirt.

Alexander had been unrepentant. “Was that not sexy?”

After a moment, Leon had realized that, actually? That was the funniest shit he had seen in a _long_ time. Alexander had never done it again for fear of Leon’s merciless “bodice-ripping” jokes that had haunted him for months afterward.

And…

And maybe his brain’s attempt to cope was a really bad one.

Cackling in the face of the man who was planning to rape him was not a correct response, and very likely not the emotional reaction Dolence had been looking for.

The senator’s face blue eyes sharpened with annoyance and his expression became that of a grumpy toddler’s.

Hands grabbed Leon’s breasts and squeezed them roughly. Leon’s brain gave a strong _fuck no_ and Leon was remembering how Sasha loved to suck on his nipples, how Sasha looked when he nuzzled between Leon’s breasts. How Sasha had held tangerines against his chest and playfully flicked the stems as he had stared flirtatiously at Leon in a grocery store.

The hand in his hair pulled sharply and Leon felt the burn at his scalp that said he was about to have a very large bald spot.

Representative Kelli Arginold, a prominent spokesperson against spousal abuse, slapped him across the face.

“I want your attention, Miss Kennedy,” Dolence told him with a sneer. “Please, focus.” The senator’s hands went to his own slacks.

“Don’t do this!” Chris yelled. Leon watched blankly.

He had spent three years having sex with Alexander by climbing into the other man’s lap and going for a ride. Sex with Alexander was _good_ , it was the best of Leon’s life, and his lover was always attentive and generous. His dick had been generous and how he had used his dick had been generous and Alexander had mastered the art of fucking without ever moving his hips.

Dolence pulled out his cock and Leon fucking _laughed_ at him.

“What is that?” he asked, snickering. He was definitely more amused than the situation called for, he knew that, but his brain was saying, _fuck it_ , there wasn’t much left to lose, was there? “Do you keep a cocktail frank in your pants? Seriously, I thought you were about to pull out your dick.”

“Leon, shut _up_!” Chris hissed.

Dolence, as pallor as he was, turned dark red in the cheeks. His face went slack in rage.

“Let _me_ tell him how small his dick is,” Chris added. “Dolence,” he continued, giving the senator a grim look, “This isn’t the time for a snack, please put the baby carrot away.”

Leon’s cackles grew in volume.

It wasn’t that funny.

This wasn’t funny.

Leon was _scared_ and all he could do about it was laugh as Dolence’s dick deflated under their mocking.

That… had not been intended. It was, nonetheless, greatly appreciated.

Dolence sat there, dick in hand, with the face of an angry child who had just been told that Santa wasn’t real.

The problem with children was that they could be cruel.

Dolence snapped a hand up toward his face and the infected clenching his hand in Leon’s hair smashed Leon’s head against the ground. His shoulders grated horribly as they were rotated in a way they were not built to. His skull hit the hardwood once – twice – and then Leon’s world went out of focus.

He came to what could have only been seconds later, being pulled to his feet. Hazy and unsteady, he was forced to stumble toward Dolence.

Leon looked at the dick and then at Dolence’s vindictive smirk.

“Sasha’s is bigger,” he told him. “When he fucks me _just_ right, I can feel him in the back of my throat. With you? I can just close my eyes and I won’t even know you’re there.” He gave it another cursory glance. “Hell, _my_ dick is bigger.”

His mind balked. He did _not_ want Dolence in him, he did _not_ want Dolence touching him, he did _not_ want this, he did _not_ –

But it was easier to talk big than to beg. Even knowing that his suffering would only increase the more he embarrassed Dolence, Leon was not willing to beg.

How long had it taken for Dolence’s past victims to beg?

Had they been defiant to the last or did they do anything they could to make the experience end as fast as possible?

“A good idea,” Dolence growled, face still red in shame. With a sharp movement, Leon was forced down to his knees in front of Dolence. He could hear Chris struggling in the distance, cursing and snarling like a caged animal. Dolence’s legs framed Leon in. “If you try to fight me, or to bite me, or to be anything other than a good girl, I will kill Captain Redfield,” he threatened Leon.

“He’s too useful,” Leon argued. “Killing him to control me won’t benefit you.”

“Then let me control you.”

“What an offer,” Leon drawled, and he may or may not be about to throw up. Would that count as harming the senator if he vomited on his dick? “Either you rape me, and he gets to become one of your slaves… or you rape me, and he dies.”

“Bite his fucking micro-dick off!” Chris roared. “I’ll die happy.”

Funnily enough, Leon recalled Alexander saying something like that not too long ago.

Leon’s jaw trembled as he tried to make himself open his mouth.

Just fucking _do_ it, he told himself. Do it for Chris, save that asshole’s life. Pretend it was Sasha.

There was no way he could mistake Dolence for Sasha.

His eyes were wet and it was only his fury that kept the tears from falling. How long would his rage hold up before he began crying in front of this monster?

He did not want this.

Dolence was smirking, pointer finger and thumb daintily holding his limp dick, and he smelled like expensive cologne and paper and Leon could see that he wore tartan boxers –

“Leon, don’t do this for me,” Chris called, and he sounded just as close to crying as Leon felt.

There was an inhuman screech, a reptilian hiss, and Leon reflexively looked up. Four Lickers were stalking across the ceiling, coming toward the stage. Leon’s eyes tracked from them to the double doors where they had to have entered from and…

Sasha stood in the doorway.

Eyes glowing red.

His face twisted in rage and horror. Teeth bared, hands balled at his sides. He made a slashing movement with his arm and every representative in the room stood to their feet and turned to face Alexander.

“Take a _seat_!” he roared, as if speaking to a disruptive classroom.

Every Plaga-infected person calmly and orderly took a seat in front of the stage, as if preparing to watch a play.

Leon threw himself away from Dolence the second no one was touching him, regrouping with Chris as the man pushed himself up to his hands and feet and then jumped to standing in a burpee motion.

Dolence hardly reacted to the loss of Leon. If Leon had to take a guess by the man’s expression, the senator had become constipated and was being unsuccessful in pushing out a huge, painful shit.

At last, he yelled, “Why won’t you listen to _me_!? I am telling you to _come back_!” He pointed at the Lickers. “I am telling you to _stop_!”

Two Lickers stayed on the ceiling over the seats while the other two dared to try and get on the stage ceiling. One succeeded while the other was foiled by the curtain and fell onto the stage.

Unfaltering, the Licker stalked between the two men and Dolence, tongue lashing in the air in the senator’s direction.

Rebecca appeared in the doorway next to Alexander. “Regroup, guys! Come on, quickly!”

Leon wanted to put his pistol to Dolence’s head and pull the trigger. He wanted to take that dick still hanging out Dolence’s slacks and cut it off. He wanted to make Dolence _hurt_ and he wanted that rotten bastard to regret ever raping anyone. To regret ever trying to rape _Leon_. Leon wanted, most of all, to get away. To never have to touch Dolence, to never look at him again, to never even acknowledge that he existed.

He leaped off the stage, Chris close behind. He pulled the halves of his shirt together as he jogged up to the other two members of his team.

Alexander caught him in his arms and pulled him close, pressing Leon’s face under his jaw, into the safe space where neck met shoulder.

“I have you, _Kotya_ ,” he swore. “I have you, you are safe now.”

“Are you… Are you controlling all of them?” Leon heard Chris ask.

What he should do was pick himself the fuck up and take care of this situation. What he should do was kill Dolence and get the representatives under UV light. What he should do was get out of Alexander’s embrace and stand on his own two fucking feet like he had countless times before.

He remembered himself and a knife, standing strong as a 12-foot Tyrant ran at him.

What the hell was he doing right now, hiding like a child?

He was so tired.

“Yes,” Alexander answered shortly, voice deep and dark and enraged. “All of _them_. And no. Not _all_ of them.”

What the hell did that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?” Chris demanded to know.

In the background, Leon heard the Lickers hissing and screeching, the scrabble of claws, the scrape of Dolence’s chair getting pushed across the floor. From Dolence, he heard surprisingly little.

Leon needed to pick his head up, turn around, and take part in whatever effort was being made to take the senator out.

And then, the sound of heavy boots.

A deep, nasally growl.

“Leon, Chris,” Rebecca began hesitantly. “This is Billy. Alexander can’t control him, but he… he listens to me.” There was a pause. She added, softly, “He remembers me.”

Leon turned his head only enough to glance over Alexander’s shoulder and, yeah.

There was an eight-foot tall Tyrant standing behind Sasha, its face a grotesque mesh of skin and scars and a lipless mouth.

Its dark eyes, when they met Leon’s, were… intelligent. Almost human, maybe, if he hadn’t been looking at Leon as if debating whether or not to kill him.

The Tyrant turned to look at Rebecca and, okay, that gaze softened just a little bit. Still cold and hungry in the way all Tyrants Leon had ever had the displeasure of meeting were programmed to be, and yet familiar.

“Hey, Billy,” Leon greeted. “I’ve had a real shit day, so don’t eat me.”

Billy opened his mouth and groaned irately at him.

“We need to get Leon out of here,” Chris demanded. “And the representatives.”

Leon heard dozens of people standing up at the same exact second. Alexander pulled them both away from the double doors.

Steady steps marched past him as the representatives left in single order.

“I am sending them outside onto the front lawn,” Alexander told Chris. “They will be out of the way.”

“Here,” Rebecca said. “Take this phone and call the BSAA and the DSO. Let them know what’s happening and, uh, try to white out the fact that Billy was here. And that Alexander can control the Plagas. Please?”

“Fuck it, fine,” Chris grumbled.

Leon heard Chris curse and snap into a phone, the Lickers battling in the background, and what was Leon doing?

“Shit,” he realized, speaking against Alexander’s jaw. “You’re alive.”

“I am not so easy to be rid of,” Alexander assured him. “Let me hold you a little while longer, yes?” There was practically a plea in his voice. “My _God_ , _kotya_.”

“He didn’t get to do anything,” Leon told him. “Not much.” He recalled hands on his chest, a knife, and Dolence’s dick so close that he could smell it, all in quick flashes behind his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

Chris hung up on the DSO with a rather rude and yet fitting comment toward the agency and returned to them. “Get Leon outside with the other victims. How long can you hold the senator back?”

The.

Other.

 _Victims_.

Leon’s hands twisted into Alexander’s shirt, teeth clenched, and he hated Chris Redfield so fucking much.

“I’m fine!” he snapped, forcing himself free of Alexander. “ _You_ go outside with the representatives, _I’ll_ deal with Dolence.”

“You need to move out, soldier!”

“I’m not your fucking soldier, Redfield, and you’re not my captain!”

“You shouldn’t _be_ here!” Chris roared. “I need you to get as far away from Dolence as you can. I don’t want to see you anywhere near him ever again.”  
“This is the wrong time to try and start protecting me,” Leon snarled.

“Is it the right time for me to try and protect you?” Alexander asked softly. His hand circled Leon’s wrist. “Look, _kotya_.”

Leon glanced at him, saw that Alexander was focused on the stage, and reluctantly turned to look.

On the stage, Dolence had gotten into some strange dance with, not just the four Lickers, but also his trusted shadow Greury and three zombie Saint Bernards. Even from a distance and over the heads of marching representatives, Leon could see that Dolence was struggling, paler than before. His forehead glistening with sweat and his eyes were bleeding under the stress of trying to wrestle control of the lot back from Alexander.

Leon’s head whipped around, concerned –

Only, Alexander was fine. His irises were glowing red and his brow was furrowed in concentration and yet, otherwise, he showed no stress.

Each monster would lunge for Dolence and then just barely miss their mark. Dolence was flinging his hands out, to the side, away from him, and it seemed that he had control of the monsters for only long enough to preserve his own existence and never long enough to stop the attacks entirely.

Except, that wasn’t true, was it?

Alexander was too collected, even as obviously pissed as he was, for Dolence to have control of the monsters for _any_ amount of time.

Leon stayed where he was. “You just planning on playing with him the whole night?” he asked his lover.

Alexander cocked his head toward him, though his eyes stayed on Dolence. “No,” he admitted. “I am waiting for some guests to arrive. They move much more slowly than I thought they would.”

Billy the Tyrant stood outside the double doors and to the left, the opposite direction from the front entrance. The representatives were all gone.

“What guests?” Chris demanded to know.

Rebecca answered solemnly, “Marcus Trevue, George Kint, and Stephen Belmont.”

“Those are the men that accused Dolence of rape and then disappeared,” Leon realized. “He kept them _here_?”

Rebecca licked her lips nervously. “He mutated them with the C-Virus.” Her voice was low and sad.

“Jesus Christ,” Chris whispered.

Billy turned his body and growled at something coming down the corridor.

Dolence had been run ragged. His suit was soaked with sweat and he looked moments away from collapse. The monsters had never even _touched_ him. They had only corralled him, like sheep dogs, and his panic had driven him to keep moving across the stage, to keep trying to control the monsters, and all to no effect.

A very interesting play, Leon thought. This would be the climax of the story where the main antagonist died.

It was when the four Lickers, the hounds, and Greury finally stopped toying with him and each backed up to the edge of the theater that Dolence noticed the House of Representatives had abandoned him.

He was wheezing, sagging into himself.

He looked like a pitiful old man.

Leon felt no pity for him.

“Come back!” Dolence croaked. “Damn it, I said **COME BACK**!”

Leon fell into a defensive position, shoulder pushing into Alexander’s chest. “He’s mutating!”

Chris slapped at his holsters. “Damn it, I don’t have my pistol.”

Rebecca squeezed Alexander’s upper arm. “Can you try to control Dolence?”

“That is… not as easy to do,” Alexander admitted. “I can feel him trying to control me, and I know he feels me, but we are not able to take control of one another.”

With a mighty, inhuman roar, Dolence’s skin began to crack open, wet and pink inside. His body began to shake violently, eyes bleeding. His spine _cracked_ , over and over again, loud enough to be heard throughout the theater, as his torso was forced by some unseen power to bend backward at the waist until it seemed that he had been folded in half while standing.

The Lickers lunged forward, their tongues grabbing the senator’s legs and arms, bracing themselves as if to hold him down, no matter what he was about to become.

Large shadows fell over Leon.

He looked up as three Whoppers strolled past him. The bloated zombies had to be at least four times his mass and taller than Billy was now. They wore only tattered clothing that strained in scrappy pieces to stay on their rotund forms and smelled of rot and decay.

Those were Dolence’s victims. The men who had been assaulted by Dolence, who had tried to speak out against him, and had lost their very humanity in their attempts to gain justice.

Leon would have never even gotten that far. Dolence had every plan of raping him, infecting him with a Plaga, and then… and then what? Once the Plaga was fully developed and Leon could not fight it anymore, would Dolence have even let him continue to take his T shots? Would Dolence have let him wear his own clothes? Would Dolence have continued to rape him?

Dolence definitely would not have let Leon speak out against him publicly.

On the stage, Dolence’s skin was torn under duress as his body grew in size and length, a visceral pink in color. His arms fell off and his legs collapsed under the weight of his new, elongated form. From his sides, segmented and spear-sharp legs erupted, running the entire length of his form. His had lost skin, cartilage, and eyes, and what was left was a muscle-covered skull and a lipless mouth. And even that changed in a moment as his jaw cracked open wide and pincers tore out of his cheeks, tentacle-like tongues oozing from his mouth between the pincers.

His body, like a flesh centipede, spanned more than the width of the stage, the tail end of him leading down the stairs and sharp legs tearing into theater chairs.

His head, reared back, grazed the ceiling.

Of his many legs, several stabbed through one of the surrounding Lickers. He lunged down and ripped another in half with his pincers, a third caught in his tongues and strangled until its head popped off. Greury was crushed under the weight of his leg and a zombie hound was speared through the head.

The fourth Licker retreated quickly, hissing, and skittered across the ceiling and walls until it was hidden like a frightened puppy behind Alexander, clinging to the wall beside the double doors.

Chris flinched, looking ready to fistfight the BOW, before Rebecca put a hand on his arm to stop him.

The Whoppers – the victims. The men whose lives Dolence had ruined with ignorance and arrogance and cruelty – split in three directions.

One went for Dolence’s tail end, grasping segmented legs in pudgy fists and bringing them to his mouth to crunch down on them like lobster. The second continued straight ahead, directly into Dolence’s line of sight, and was instantly picked up in those many tongues to be killed the same as the Lickers before. Except, this bloated zombie stuffed the tongues into his own mouth, slurping and chewing. A hissing screech escaped Dolence, somehow, and the monster threw the zombie away, back toward the chairs.

The third had gone to the right, up the short set of stairs, and had found a space between legs to bite down on Dolence’s flesh body. Dolence _screamed_ as chunks of him were masticated and swallowed. He swung around and those pincers found the third zombie’s body – and then he screamed again, head swinging in the opposite direction. The zombie that had been crunching on his legs had found the flesh between them as well and had his fist shoved inside of Dolence’s meat, searching for a hidden delicacy.

Dolence whipped his tail end, sending the zombie crashing into the center aisle.

“We need to go,” Chris ordered. “And we need to find something to kill him with. The Whoppers are not going to win this one.”

Billy growled.

“They will win,” Alexander told him coolly. “They will win because they deserve to.”

“That’s not how war works, _Kozachenko_.”

Alexander tilted his head, his concentration increasing. “This is not war,” he told Chris darkly. “I have been in war. This is one sad, desperate man who has been falsely led to believe that he is untouchable.”

“Sounds like Hitler to me,” Chris snapped back. “And guess what he started? A fucking war!”

“Also sounds like President Smith,” Rebecca admitted.

“This man is not the president of anything,” Alexander reminded them. “Once we are done with him, he will be nothing.”

Leon made a decision.

He grabbed Alexander by the jacket, unzipping it and pushing it off his shoulders. Alexander could barely spare him a glance, his attention focused on a battle of wills with Dolence. Nonetheless, he shrugged the jacket all the way off, wordless permission for Leon to take it. Leon slipped it on quickly, zipping it over his own torn clothing. Alexander was not as broad as him in the shoulders, but Leon would manage. Next, he pulled the firearm from Alexander’s belt, turning the safety off.

Chris caught him by the wrist as Leon turned back toward the battle. “You can’t go in there.”

“I’m not,” Leon told him. “I’m just backup.”

He took aim and fired as Dolence went to grab one of the zombies with his pincers. His shot hit Dolence’s head, causing the monster to whip toward his direction and _howl_. The distraction was enough that the zombie – whichever of the men he may have been in life – punched his fists into Dolence’s belly, pulling free a long rope of intestine that he instantly stuffed in his mouth. Dolence screamed in pain.

Leon shot again into the hole the zombie had created. Dolence definitely did not like that, and the monster attempted to lunge off the stage. His head low to the ground, a zombie grabbed one of his pincers with both fists, dragging his rotund body toward the monster close enough to bite down on the rock-hard appendage.

The pincers snapped shut, cutting off the zombie’s hands. Without pause, the zombie began to devour Dolence’s tongues, and then, with sudden determination, turned his head to tear his teeth into Dolence’s shoulder.

Dolence dragged his entire body around to whack at the zombie, so close to Dolence’s throat, and Leon fired three more rounds into holes the zombies had already made in his fleshy exterior. Dolence jerked with each shot, screeching.

That eyeless face focused in Leon’s direction. Without the ability to physically convey emotion, Leon still felt Dolence’s utmost hatred for him clearly.

He heard the baying of hounds and then the dogs who had crouched back lunged forward all at once from different directions. They landed on top of Dolence, canines ripping into his back.

Rebecca took up position beside Leon, pistol in hand, and fired at Dolence when the monster tried to arch his back into a circle so that he could grab one of the dogs with a tongue. Her bullet went straight into Dolence’s shoulder wound and the monster recoiled with more sounds of pain.

One of the Whoppers had been chopped in half and decapitated in the seconds Leon had looked away.

Whoever he had been, Leon thought, he had deserved better.

“Alright, I’m not standing here and doing nothing,” Chris decided. “I need to find my gun!”

Billy held out Chris’s firearm.

Chris glared ferociously at the Tyrant as he took his pistol and then came to stand on Leon’s other side.

The armed battalion had limited bullets – Leon was already down to two and that was _after_ he had quickly patted Alexander down for more only to find one pack of ammunition – and used them sparingly to keep Dolence distracted.

It was enough, though. Dolence was failing, slowly but surely, weakening as the remaining two dogs and two Whoppers steadily devoured any part of him that they could reach.

A keening, desperate cry left what was left of Dolence.

And then he fell perfectly still.

He was not dead, Leon knew that. He was still standing, for lack of a better term as most of his body looked like a centipede made of muscle and he had many, many legs to stand on. However, he had stopped fighting back.

“You are mine now,” Alexander growled from behind the team. “You disgusting, unworthy, son of a _bastard_.”

Leon glanced over his shoulder. A tear of blood traced the curve of Alexander’s expression, so twisted in concentration with lips pulled back in a snarl that he had begun himself to look monstrous.

Leon’s heart skipped, his hands still on the pistol. One bullet left.

Leon put his gun down, low by his hip. He turned back to watch as a weak and tired Dolence was no longer able to hold his own against Alexander in a battle – of what? Plagas? Did this mean that Alexander’s Plaga was stronger? More dominant? How could that be if Dolence had said he had infected Alexander with a Recessive species? – of will.

Dolence lowered his grotesque body to lay on the stage. The Whoppers and dogs converged on him.

Both of Dolence’s past victims each rested one swollen foot on Dolence’s skinless head. Leon watched as they put all of their considerable weight down on the monster’s skull that laid passively beneath them. Something about that skull that had refused to be penetrated by bullets also refused to collapse under their mass.

The dogs approached, snarling. In one coordinated move, the two hounds pounced and began to chew on the monster’s neck, tearing his skull free from the rest of his body.

Dolence had to let it happen. He had no control to stop it.

Leon knew the moment he perished because his monstrous form suddenly went completely limp. Only cadaveric spasms made some of his segmented legs twitch randomly.

There was a deep exhale from behind him.

Alexander had stumbled the moment Dolence died, the force of the other man’s dominance no longer pushing at him. He caught himself on the back of a chair and took deep, steady breaths. Color began to return to his face.

Still, his irises were red.

There were too many BOWs in the theater and just outside for him to let go of command.

The surviving Whoppers and hounds had to be dealt with. The Licker that now came off the wall and crawled to Alexander’s side, using its body to right Alexander’s unsteady stance like a faithful service dog – it had to be dealt with.

Leon looked back at Billy.

Billy caught his eye and growled.

That _definitely_ had to be dealt with.

First of all, though.

Leon holstered the pistol, turned on his heel, and was kissing his boyfriend before he could draw his next breath. His hands framed Alexander’s face, pulling the other man in with painful need.

Dolence had infected Alexander with a Plaga.

Dolence had told him Alexander was dead.

Dolence had wanted to rape and humiliate Leon.

He had been about to, had had his slacks open, his dick out, and he had fully intended for Leon to suck him off in front of members of the House of Representatives and Chris. He had had plans for Leon’s future, for Leon to have a Recessive Plaga, for Leon to _belong_ to him.

All because Dolence could not accept Leon for who he was, hadn’t been able to accept other men like him, and had sought to punish them all.

Well.

That didn’t fucking end well for _Dolence_ , now _did it_?

And it was because of Alexander. Because something had happened and Alexander had become stronger, more powerful, than Dolence, because Alexander was a good fucking man and he was all Leon’s.

Alexander made a noise of surprise into his mouth, his arms coming around Leon all the same, and maybe distracting the guy when he had to control two zombie dogs, two Whoppers, a Licker, and fifty Plaga-infected representatives wasn’t a great idea, but Leon was doing it anyway.

“Fuck it,” he heard Chris say. “I can’t… I can’t compete with that.”

“I told you they really, _really_ love each other,” Rebecca replied.

There was the heavy sound of boots walking past Leon.

It would have been nice, he thought with annoyance, if Billy had chosen to help even once.

Then again, he _had_ chosen not to hurt them.

Leon supposed it was better that Billy be neutral than Billy be against them.

Leon pulled away only by inches, pressed another kiss to Alexander’s cheek, and then twisted his head around to see what the hell the Tyrant was doing after having stood still for the entire fight.

“Billy?” Rebecca asked as the Tyrant walked past, going toward the stage.

Alexander sucked in a deep breath, realization hitting. He petted a hand through Leon’s hair – much more gently than the last fucking time someone had their hand in his hair – and pushed Leon’s face into his shoulder.

“I let them have this,” Alexander told him. “They cannot be saved.”

Oh.

Damn it.

Leon closed his eyes, tired as hell over all the people who deserved saving and didn’t get saved. 

He wished they had at least known, somewhere in their ruined minds, that they got the best of Dolence in the very end. Leon was upset because he knew they had no idea. The zombies had done as commanded by Alexander, and they had gorged themselves on flesh because that was what zombies did, but the men who had spoken out against Dolence were gone long before Billy made his way to the stage to end their suffering.

He heard the wet, squishy sound of the Whoppers dying. The hounds whined and yelped as they were put down.

Leon saw none of it, tucked into Alexander, and yet he knew exactly what it looked like. He had seen it all before.

There was a hiss at their side. The Licker.

Alexander sighed. “I have missed you…” He said it with regret.

The Licker skittered away, directed by Alexander toward its doom at the hands of a Tyrant.

Alexander had pulled the last existing Licker away from the battle out of _sentiment_. Not some desire for protection or backup, but because Alexander was possibly one of the only people in the world to have a positive experience with this specific kind of BOW.

Leon curled his hand up into Alexander’s hair and pulled the other man’s face down into the junction of Leon’s neck and shoulder, offering comfort.

Yeah, he fucking hated Lickers. Had hated them even when Alexander had controlled them during the civil war. He could understand, all the same, that Alexander probably liked them more than he liked actual dogs.

Alexander flinched in his arms when the Licker gave its dying shriek.

The heavy thump of Billy’s boots was heard leaving the stage, stalking toward Rebecca.

“Do you still have a hold on the representatives?” he asked.

“I would rather they not panic or try to leave right now,” Alexander answered, face still pressed against Leon’s shoulder.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” came Chris’s tired voice. “What are we going to do about Kozechenko and Billy?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca answered honestly.

“I imagine Kozechenko will get UV treatment like the representatives?”

“You would think so, except… Alexander doesn’t have a Plaga. We checked a year ago.”

“Dr. Rebecca,” Chris began very respectfully, “he _has_ to have a Plaga.”

“Then I will check again! And I will run a DNA test. We all know that there is something going on with him, but we haven’t been able to figure out what. To be honest, I am not that worried about Alexander right now.”

Leon wasn’t looking, but he imagined Chris was gesturing frenetically toward the stage when he hissed, “You’re not _worried_ about _Alexander_ right now?”

“Oh, did you hear that, _kotya_? The captain does know my first name.”

“I knew he’d figure it out someday,” Leon muttered back.

“Not the time for jokes, Leon.”

“We’ve definitely made worse jokes at worse times, Chris.” Why had he thought it was a good idea to make fun of the senator’s dick when the man was planning on violating him?

His brain returned a tired, apathetic as hell, ‘because why the fuck not?’ and Leon did not have the strength to fight that mentality.

“Please don’t remind me,” Chris said, a lot softer and more vulnerable than Leon was expecting. “That was… so fucking stupid.”

“It worked,” Leon rebuked. “A nice little distraction.”

“It didn’t end well for you.”

“I never even touched his dick,” Leon grumbled. His hands clenched on Alexander. “I’m fine.”

He was most certainly not fine.

“There is no one here to say that Dr. Chambers and I were ever present,” Alexander piped up, not even acknowledging Leon’s outright lie. He only held Leon closer. “Except for your teammates who flew us here.”

“I’m not worried about D.C. and Nadia. They have nothing to do with this.”

“Dr. Chambers and I can lead Billy out of here. It is likely that your organizations will want to sweep the forest. We can hide away from Dolence’s estate and wait for your return with a truck.”

Billy was not going to fit in the SUV. A U-Haul would be a good idea.

“Any idea where we’re dropping Billy off?” Leon asked.

“He’s coming with me. To my house.”

Leon squinted against Alexander’s neck. “Is your house… ‘Billy’-proof?”

“I foresee many renovations in my future,” Rebecca answered with a sigh of early-onset exhaustion. “But… it will be worth it.”

“In order to get that far,” Chris began, “Billy has to get out of here before the DSO and BSAA arrive. Local police are going to be here too. Kozechenko has… a good idea. It’s best that no one knows that he or you were ever here.”

“Just so you know now,” Leon added, “I’m a horrible actor. We should go over our story now or else no one is going to believe us.”

“Follow me, Billy,” Rebecca said.

Leon finally forced himself to stand on his own two feet and blink tiredly at his team. Rebecca was heading for the double doors, the Tyrant stomping after her.

Alexander pressed another kiss to Leon’s mouth. “Next time, I choose where we go on vacation.”

“Next time, we’re staying at your apartment,” Leon shot back. “I’m sick of adventures.”

Reluctantly, Leon let Alexander go. His lover jogged to catch up with the other two and disappeared into the corridor.

Leon turned to Chris. “Now what?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to sit down and wait.”

“Chris Redfield, are you tired?”

“I am… exhausted.”

“We barely did anything. We practically went on a jog and then got sat on.”

“I am… mentally… emotionally… exhausted. And my ribs might be bruised from when I was impersonating a mattress.”

Chris plopped into one chair on the right side of the walkway and Leon took the chair on the left side of the walkway just opposite of Chris.

“That’s fair,” Leon said with a groan. He pushed his hands into the pockets of Alexander’s jacket and slouched bonelessly into the seat.

The room smelled overwhelmingly of decay and raw meat. Staring straight ahead meant looking at Dolence’s decapitated corpse. Leon instantly wished they had decided to sit down somewhere else.

If anything, they should head outside to stand guard over the infected representatives and be available to run interference before someone got trigger happy.

Leon had just sat down, but that thought made him roll back to his feet with a curse. “We’ve got to go outside,” he told Chris. “Some rookie is going to see all the representatives standing around like statues and get nervous.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Damn it.” Chris rose to his feet and they walked out of the theater.

Leon and Chris went out the front entrance. However the Plaga were ultimately controlled, the representatives were still being obedient. The representatives stood on the porch, in the front yard, and in the circular driveway that was packed full of cars.

“I believed you when you said no one was going to be here tonight,” Leon grumbled. “I believed you like an idiot.”

“The party was a few days ago,” Chris defended himself, gingerly holding his ribs. “I didn’t know about… _any_ of this. The BOWs weren’t even supposed to be here. _Billy_ wasn’t supposed to be here.” He glanced speculatively at the sky. “We just saved Congress by accident.”

“Not that they’ll be grateful.”

“A part of me hopes that they won’t remember tonight,” Chris admitted. “I don’t believe that all democrats are good people, but I don’t think many of them,” he gestured to the gathered representatives, “would have been okay with Dolence using them the way he did.”

To threaten Chris. To molest Leon.

“There is a lot that happened tonight that I honestly don’t have an answer for. My superiors are going to tear me a new one for every ‘I don’t know’ I give them.” Leon groaned tiredly.

“Here’s to hoping that Dolence wrote down notes.”

“Here, here.”

There was a moment where they simply breathed and lived. Leon’s mind began to process how close his mouth had been to Dolence’s d-

“I’m sorry,” Chris said.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sorry about that too. Everything about that. But I was talking about how I’ve treated Alexander. He’s a good man. You deserve a good partner.”

“Actually, he’s a great man and he deserves better, but I’m selfish and I’m keeping him.” Leon offered a small smile. “Thanks, though. I’m sure he’ll love to hear that.”

Chris was watching him closely. “I can’t do what he can, can I?”

“Depends on what you’re talking about.”

“He makes you feel safe. Protected. Every time he was around, it was like you let your guard down. Every time I’m around, your guard goes up.”

“We only ever really hang out these days when something’s trying to eat us,” Leon explained. “It’s a Pavlovian response. I see you, I know it’s time to fight.”

“Usually me.”

“I’m used to working alone and you’re used to leading a team. Yes, Chris, we fight each other. Admittedly, we also fight really well together. I just can’t keep fighting anymore, not like I used to. I’m tired and I need a safe place to go and Sasha… is that safe place.”

Chris nodded. “I wish the best for both of you. And I hope Rebecca – ”

“Dr. Rebecca – ”

“ _Dr. Rebecca_ figures out what’s going on with him.”

Leon shrugged. “I’m not in a rush.” He had been, a year ago when Alexander could miraculously walk and he developed some kind of armor. Now?

Alexander was fine. Whatever he was. Whatever he was capable of. Alexander was fine. Whatever his definition of “fine” was, Leon cared less and less as the night wore on and they waited for their respective organizations to show up with the local police.

Alexander was fine and that meant he was armored and could walk and could control Recessive species Plagas.

Alexander was fine and that meant Leon had a home to go to at the end of this nightmare.


	8. Make Your Character's Gestures Grand

**Ada Wong**

Ada watched the news coverage on the Dolence event. There was live footage of the BSAA, the DSO, and the state police parked around Dolence’s estate, numerous democratic representatives being led away by agents. In the background, she saw Captain Chris Redfield standing next to Leon, discussing something of import with another DSO agent.

“Oh, good.” She smiled to herself, encased in a warm, rose-smelling bubble bath. “They handled it.”

She lifted a bubble-covered hand to pick up the remote and turn off the television. With a small smile, she sank deeper into the tub. 

~::~

**Alexander Kozachenko**

He had to go home.

As much as Alexander wished to stay in the States with his lover, Leon was far too busy for him. The last Leon had been able to spend time with him outside of his apartment had been when he had gone shopping for a new phone. Alexander was enraged and horrified to realize that Dolence had had access to everything on Leon’s phone for some time now and had wished he was capable of dealing the monster a second death.

Since that last outing, Alexander had hardly had a moment alone with Leon _in_ the apartment. Not only was he fielding questions about the scandal of Dolence having bio-organic weapons on his property, how he and Captain Redfield alone defeated those bio-organic weapons, and how he came to be on Dolence’s property in the first place, he was also attempting to get justice for Kint, Belmont, and Trevue.

This was especially not easy with Dolence’s constituents calling foul play and the president of the United States – for now – lamenting the loss of his good friend Terse Dolence. To add uncertainty to whether or not the case was winnable, Captain Redfield and Leon had to lie about how they had come to be on the estate, how they found the containment cells in the basement, and how they had defeated the BOW’s. They had developed some sort of story involving Greury helping them and the BOW’s all turning on each other because of _Las Plagas_ , which was as close to the truth as they could get without mentioning Dr. Chambers, Billy, or himself. The situation was tense.

Leon all but lived at his DSO office when he was not being summoned to some other agency or court to state his case. He had travelled to the homes of Kint, Belmont, and Trevue to give their families the news of their fate. That had… That had been a very rough night for Leon, and the single night since the entire fiasco began where he made time to come back to Alexander and crawl into bed next to him, quiet and sleepless.

Alexander understood that Leon needed him right now. It was only that Leon was not _ready_ for him. Alexander discussed leaving with Leon and the other man agreed that it would be for the best. Leon was going to be too busy for the holidays anyway, and Alexander needed to return home to his children.

“We’ll try again some other time,” Leon promised, bags like bruises under his eyes.

Leaving was not an easy decision. However, Alexander was confident that Leon would come to him when he was willing and available to. For now, Alexander felt that he was only collecting dust in an apartment that was admittedly nice and yet hardly a home. Alexander almost regretted doing Leon’s laundry and putting it away. The space was now too clean, too empty, as if it was a showroom and not a place where someone lived.

Home for Leon, he recalled as he got his duffel bag put together, was in Eastern Slav Republic with him. Leon had called Alexander’s small apartment his home.

His flight was set to leave in the morning and he would be by himself. Leon had already left, eyes dark and begging for Alexander to understand – and he did. He understood that Leon had a job to do. His _kotya_ would come back to him when that job was done. And then they could dedicate days, weeks, months, however long Leon was free, to addressing what had happened and overcoming it.

Alexander was haunted by the image of Leon on that stage. Forced to his knees and bracketed between that monster’s thighs, that monster’s dick almost smearing across his _kotya’s_ cheek. His tops torn open, leaving him vulnerable and jagged.

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to banish the memory.

His _kotya_ , being forced to submit to a monster.

He looked at his hands, palms up, and splayed his fingers wide. Was _he_ a monster?

Dr. Chambers had assured him that his DNA test was now her number one priority and that it should not take long at all to analyze it. She asked him for a few days, four maximum, and then she would definitely be calling him with the results.

What could the results be?

He put his hands down and let his eyes meander around the room.

Alexander scoffed. This apartment was abhorrent and he despised it. He was beginning to understand more and more why Leon spent so little time here. It was a lonely, empty place.

Later, as he boarded his plane – a commercial flight this time – he received a text from his lover.

_‘Love you. Fly safe.’_

Alexander went to type on his phone, realized he was still on the Cyrillic alphabet, and had to backspace. He switched to the English alphabet and tried again. _‘I love you as well. Please update me regularly.’_

_‘I’ll try.’_

_‘That is all I ask.’_

Alexander was asked to put away his phone and he settled in for the flight. Time to go home.

~::~

Almost daily, often when he knew Leon should be sleeping, he received texts. Messages along the lines of, _‘Still alive’_ and _‘Fuck, I hate this shit’_ as well as _‘I’m going to jail’_ followed eventually by _‘They decided not to put me in jail’_.

Alexander’s state of mind was, understandably, questionable from day to day depending on what Leon texted him.

The day was December 25th and Alexander was expecting his annual, sarcasm-loaded _‘Merry Christmas, Sasha – oh, wait’_ phone call and/or text message from his lover. After all, Eastern Slav Republic had once been a part of the Soviet Union that used the Gregorian Calendar and not the Julian Calendar. For Eastern Slav Republic, Christmas fell on January 7th.

He felt a touch of bitterness that he could have been celebrating Christmas in America with his _kotya_ , if only life ever worked out for them.

When a text came, he assumed it would be Leon. His breath caught at finding that it was not.

Dr. Chambers was asking, _‘Is now a good time to call you?’_

Alexander replied stiffly, knowing what this phone call was going to be about. _‘Yes.’_

His phone lit up with an incoming call, almost making him flinch.

Alexander swallowed thickly and answered.

“Merry Christmas, Alexander!” Dr. Chambers chirped with such overwhelming sincerity that Alexander did not have the heart to tell her that it was not Christmas for him.

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Chambers,” he replied.

“Please, call me Dr. Rebecca.”

He chuckled despite himself. “How are you today, Dr. Rebecca?”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Ah, he thought. She had not planned this conversation beyond her holiday greeting.

“I’m okay,” she eventually answered. “Billy is okay too. And… you’re okay.”

She could not see him, but Alexander still cocked his head in confusion. “I believe we both know that is not true.”

“You’re different,” she allowed hesitantly. “And… not necessarily human anymore.”

“How is that _okay_?”

“Because you’re stable!”

“Dr. _Chambers_ ,” he growled. “What. Am. I?”

He had, of course, expected some sort of dire news. He had expected to hear that he had a Plaga attached to his spine and that he was going to have to get treated like the representatives. He recalled from his urine tests that she had discovered some aspects of him that were not human. Somehow, the truth was beyond even what he had surmised. 

There was a stilted silence. “ _Technically speaking_ , you could be classified as a bio-organic weapon.” Her voice was very quiet. He stared numbly out the bay windows next to his desk. “Based on what I know, you are very closely related to a Verdugo, Novistador, or U-3. All three were created by inserting insect genetic information into a human’s genome after they were parasitized by a Plaga. In your case, I believe the insect DNA was spliced directly into the Plaga Dolence injected you with instead of yourself.”

“I am a monster,” he summarized.

She made a frustrated noise. “Well, yes… You are, _technically speaking_ , a monster, if you are using the term ‘monster’ interchangeably with ‘BOW’.”

He closed his eyes. “Can I be cured?”

“… No.” He could feel her shake her head on the other side of the phone. “Not without killing you.”

“I see.”

“But I was right! You _are_ stable. You mutated over a year ago and you haven’t changed even a little bit since. Your DNA shows no signs of deterioration or further mutation. The way you have been is the way you will be for the rest of your life. If anything, I am only worried about when you _do_ die. You might have some posthumous mutation.”

“That is not as reassuring as you might think.”

“I am telling you everything I know. You are one of a kind, Alexander. It doesn’t have to be bad.”

He breathed in deep. He let his breath out slowly. “I am a weapon.”

“It is _your_ choice whether or not you want to be a weapon.”

“’Weapon’ is in the name, ‘bio-organic weapon’.”

“Some people are named Smith, that doesn’t make them a smith! The term ‘bio-organic weapon’ is generalized for all organisms that have been genetically altered.”

“To?”

“…To?”

“I have known Leon for eight years now. Even before him, I was acquainted with bio-organic weapons. The full definition of a BOW is that they are genetically altered _to be used as weapons._ ”

She was quiet for a moment. “Aren’t we all weapons?” she eventually asked. “Isn’t Leon a weapon? We’re just not genetically altered like you.”

Alexander splayed his hand across his desk, eyes on his fingers. He decided that she was right about that, at least. A bio-organic weapon, and he got to choose when he was a weapon. Leon simply was a weapon, even when he did not want to be. “Until the day I die, I am in full control of my facilities.”

She released a breath of relief. “Absolutely.”

“After that, I will be a danger to everyone around me.”

He heard her draw back in a sharp breath, her tension returning. “Well…”

“I could get hit by a truck tomorrow,” he growled. “I could fall down the stairs! There is no telling when I will die or who will be with me when I am dead.”

“Alexander,” she admonished him. “I want you to shoot yourself in the leg and then get back to me on how successful you were in _actually_ shooting yourself in the leg.”

He paused.

“Do you know what I found in your DNA? The diabolical ironclad beetle. Do you know what that specific beetle is known for? They have the _hardest_ exoskeleton of all invertebrates in the _world_. They can survive getting run over by cars! Research has shown that they can withstand weight up to thirty-nine _thousand_ times their own body mass. And they are only _two centimeters_ long.”

At least she respected him enough to use the metric system.

“So we know where my armor came from,” he said.

“Oh, yes, we certainly do. You, Alexander Kozachenko, are not going to die in any accident. Not unless an entire skyscraper falls on you.”

Alexander studied his inner forearm.

“I do not look like a monster.”

“Just make sure no one else gets a hold of your bodily fluids,” she warned him. “And maybe avoid doctors for… well, everything. I can only imagine what would show up on your X-ray.”

“Only one person has regular access to my bodily fluids. I believe they are safe with him.”

“Alexander!”

He chuckled.

After a moment, he was silent once more.

“What do I tell him?” he asked her. “How do I tell Leon that I have become the thing he has been fighting half of his life?”

“First of all, you probably don’t come out and say, ‘Hey, I’m a monster’. That might not portray the situation accurately.”

“And yet I _am_ a monster.”

“That is only _technically speaking_.”

“I have decided that ‘technically speaking’ is a deplorable phrase that must be abolished.”

She chose to ignore that. “Start with the good news. Tell him that you’re fine and that nothing is wrong.”

“Something is _very_ wrong.”

“Oh, have you been eating human flesh lately? Have you given into murderous tendencies? Do you work for a bioterrorist group or cult? Are you going to pick Leon up the next time you see him and throw him across the room?”

Leon had complained often enough about the sheer number of monsters who had used him as a frisbee for Alexander to consider that last remark seriously.

“I _did_ technically throw him very early on.”

“Really?”

“I threw him straight into bed, and he started it, but yes.”

“That’s not what I mean and you _know_ it!”

“You were there when I gave into murderous tendencies.”

“Those were special circumstances. If you were to go to work right now and see all your students, would you hurt them?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Her silence was triumphant. “An actual monster wouldn’t hesitate. To be honest with you, I know your situation isn’t great. You could be in great danger if knowledge of your mutations fell into the wrong hands. We could _all_ be in danger if our enemies found that there was a way to control a company of BOW’s, have armor strong enough to resist getting run over by a tank, and still look and act human. A lot of people would want you.”

Look and act human.

Alexander was not human.

“I have always been desirable,” he told her blankly. “This changes nothing.”

She giggled. “You’re okay, Alexander. You’re stable. Start with that when you talk to Leon. Lead up to everything else.”

“ _Kotya_ ,” he rehearsed. “I am okay. I am stable. I am not human.”

“Technically speaking, you are partly human?”

“Ah, yes. _Kotya_ , I am okay. I am stable. _Technically speaking_ , I am still partially human. The other parts of me are Plaga and beetle.”

“This is not going to be an easy conversation.”

“No, Dr. Rebecca. It will not be an easy conversation.” He sighed. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate what you have done for us.”

“You are welcome. And, thank you. For getting us out of that mansion alive. If you think about it… if you were… _normal_ … many people would be suffering right now. Leon probably more than most.”

His thoughts stalled. That nightmarish event rearranged itself from the moment they were outside to that second when Leon was being forced toward Dolence’s genitals.

It had been Alexander to make the zombie hounds attack one another. That distraction had given his team time to get to the garage.

In the garage, Alexander had kept the zombie hounds, Whoppers, Lickers, and Greury at bay. Dolence had meant for them to die down there. Their limited ammunition would not have gotten them out alive. No – Alexander never even would have been there to begin with. He would have been here, at home, in his wheelchair and waiting for news. News he would likely never receive. Rebecca would have been torn apart in the garage, alone and without knowing how close she had been to finding Billy. That was only if the team had made it as far as the garage without Alexander there. Perhaps they would have. Perhaps they would not have.

On that stage an ocean away, nothing would have stopped Dolence from violating Leon. There would have been no rescue as Leon did whatever he had to do to preserve his one remaining teammate’s life.

Alexander pushed his hand over his mouth, nauseous.

He had not allowed himself to consider what would have happened if he had never showed up. He had, in a nightmare or two, arrived late. Even his worst nightmare had not forced him to envision Leon _never_ being rescued.

There was a horrific image in his mind of a red-eyed Leon, dressed in feminine clothing. Dolence touching him as if Leon was a possession and not a human. Leon allowing himself to be touched because he was infected with a Recessive Plaga and Dolence was controlling him like a puppet.

Distantly, he was also aware of what their failure would have meant for America as a nation. Dolence would have continued to infect the House of Representatives with _Las Plagas_ and then he would have moved on to infecting other government bodies to extend his power even further.

And yet, Alexander was thinking of his _kotya_ , dead-eyed and submissive, and that was already too much to think about.

“I had not considered that,” he told Dr. Rebecca. “I find that I… I am glad for what I can do.”

A monster, him. And yet, he was his _kotya’s_ monster.

He had not been able to protect Irina or his students years ago. An entire school of children and employees had been murdered by his own government and he had despised himself for so long, hating that he had not been with them.

This one time, as if God had decided he had suffered enough, he had been allowed to save the person he cherished most. His new reality was not ideal. However, he could reluctantly admit that the outcomes were better than he could have otherwise hoped for. “The end justifies the means,” he pondered.

“You saved us!” Rebecca cheered. “You protected Leon. None of us could have done what you did.”

“I must go now. I will try to get a hold of Leon and tell him what you have told me.”

“Okay,” she answered. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I certainly hope so. Thank you, Dr. Rebecca. Have a Merry Christmas.”

“To you as well,” she chirped. The call ended.

Alexander sat at his desk, phone in hand, for a very long time.

Eventually, his phone chimed at him.

It was a text from Leon.

_‘Merry Christmas – oh, wait. Wrong calendar.’_

Alexander, after another pause, replied, _‘Laugh it up. We may not live by the Julian Calendar, but at least I do not fuck monsters.’_

He realized after he sent it that he may be misunderstood.

Almost instantly, his phone began to ring. With a wince of regret, he answered.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, _Alexander_?” Leon snarled.

Ah, good. At least he had a chance to explain himself. “It means that Dr. Rebecca has gotten back to me with my results.” There was such a heavy silence that he believed Leon had stopped breathing. “ _Technically speaking_ , I am only partially human now. I am also Plaga and beetle.”

“Well, shit.”

“I am, for all intents and purposes, a bio-organic weapon,” Alexander continued. “For the past year, you have been fucking a monster.”

Leon was quiet for some time, long enough that Alexander began to prepare himself for the worst.

“I’ve decided your BOW name,” Leon at last announced. “From now on, I’m addressing you as Massive Dick. It’s up for interpretation whether or not I’m talking about your cock or your personality.”

Alexander felt the need to both laugh and cry at the same time. “You are taking this much better than I did. Also, I demand that I be called Massive Penis so that there is no room for misinterpretation. This name cannot be used in school.”

“I’ve known for a long time that you’re it for me, no matter what you are.”

Alexander tilted his head back, willing the wetness of his eyes to go away. “Already made the decision to commit to a monster?”

“You? A monster?” Leon scoffed. “I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse. You’re boring by comparison.”

Alexander sputtered. “Forgive me for being so _normal_.”

“I forgive you.”

Leon had already decided to not give up on him…

“You suspected,” Alexander said.

“I figured as much,” Leon agreed. “I don’t know any human who can do what you’ve done.”

“And yet, I am the thing you are employed to get rid of.”

“You’re not a danger to anyone,” Leon informed him.

Alexander let a telling silence settle between them.

Leon interjected, “I stand by what I said.”

“What I did at the manor…”

“You saved our lives. You saved _me_. Do you regret that?”

“No, never!”

“Then I don’t see a problem.”

“You do see a problem.”

“Alright, I see a problem. Our relationship was bound to have one of those sooner or later. You’re not cheating on me, you’re not abusing me, you’re not using me for my money, you’re not blackmailing me, you’re not – should I go on? Or are you getting the idea?”

“You have very low standards. Just because I treat you as I should does not mean you should be able to excuse what I am.”

“What you are is a good man. Regardless of whether you’re _human_ , you are my… you’re my safe place, Sasha. You’re my home. Not here, not Eastern Slav Republic, but you. Maybe you’re a monster, but I’ve got dozens of those living in my head. You’re kinder than most _humans_ I know. You’re mine until you don’t want me anymore. How do you not know that?”

Alexander sucked in a deep breath. There were wet tracks slipping down his cheeks, against his ears. “I know that,” he choked in a guttural voice. “You must know the same. You must know that you are my very heart.”

“I had that feeling,” Leon murmured. There was a discussion in the background. Leon replied to someone. His voice returned. “I have to go. I’m sorry, I know you need me right now, but… If you can believe it, I’ve been fighting with the president on whether to keep the Queen Plaga or destroy it. That moron is trying to say we can use it.”

“Do not let him win that argument.”

“The BSAA, DSO, TerraSafe, _and_ SCOTUS are all working together to make sure he doesn’t. I can’t fucking wait for Gomez to take office.”

He swiped at his tears, blinking at the outside sky. “I love you, _kotya_.”

“I love you too, Massive Penis.”

Alexander laughed huskily as he ended the call.

With a blurry view, he took in his small apartment. A good home. A lived-in home.

When he could finally rest, Leon would come home to him.

~::~

**Leon Scott Kennedy**

Between taking care of the Dolence scandal and hiding Billy, the transition from 2020 to 2021 was utter and complete hell.

There was the public, for one, and Leon felt more than once that the country was on the brink of civil war as civilians picked their side as to whether Dolence had been a genius or a monster.

There were their own fates as well. The state of West Virginia had at least quickly come to the decision not to press charges against Chris and Leon for trespassing, property damage, or manslaughter – all charges they had threatened to press at one point or another – but that did not mean that anyone was happy with the two individuals. Their agencies were pissed that they had acted outside of their official roles and were actively trying to punish them without terminating their employment. Chris wasn’t allowed on the BSAA investigative team for the Dolence case and had, in fact, been put on probation. Leon was just an unlucky enough bastard that the DSO wanted him to keep working the Dolence case until they figured out where to send him indefinitely.

Besides themselves and the public, the White House was a concern. President Gomez had inherited the disaster from President Smith, who had done little to help the situation except for talking about how he had respected Senator Terse Dolence and would miss him as a friend.

There were the surviving victims themselves who, fortunately or unfortunately, had no memory of that night but were each reacting to the trauma in their own ways. There were several representatives stepping down, others speaking out, some starting therapy, and one representative developed an eating disorder once it came out that Dolence had likely infected them during his party. Fortunately, their Plagas had been removed, though most had experienced such agony in the process that they had to be hospitalized afterward.

The worst news was that, by February, no one was talking about it anymore. Gomez was working hard to help the victims as well as to aid in the investigations of the DSO, the BSAA, and the FBI, who had decided to take the case from the state police. All three agencies were doing inventory of Dolence’s assets – Gomez had had to lift several restrictions on the BSAA so that they could operate within the States to do so – and to assuage public turmoil. However, the longer Gomez spent on this one issue only made the public upset that she had failed to fix other issues Smith had caused while in office.

News being what it was, the fact that the Dolence scandal had held everyone’s attention for more than a month was impressive. Once February 1st came around, though, interest had completely shifted to whether or not Gomez would address police brutality after another young black man was shot in Texas by a cop while leaving a nursing home.

By February 1st, this was what the DSO and the BSAA knew:

 _Nothing_.

Dolence had no security footage, kept no written or typed documents, had burned or erased all financial records related to his bio-organic weapon purchases, and, if there _was_ a magical flash drive somewhere that contained his every thought and motivation, it was impossible to find.

The fact that Rebecca had tracked Billy to Dolence based on a single journal entry was almost impossible to believe.

Aside from the carnage at Dolence’s manor – fortunately very damning in and of itself – all other proof that Dolence was a bioterrorist was word of mouth and was essentially inadmissible in court.

What they _did_ find was proof that Dolence was a rapist.

A BSAA agent discovered a small wooden chest in a secret wall compartment behind a painting that hung over Dolence’s bed. In the chest were photos.

In total, Dolence had assaulted, not three, not five, not seven – but a total of _twelve_ trans men between 1980 and 2020. The photos had dates on the back and each carried the deadname of the man assaulted.

It was Dolence’s trophy collection.

Each victim had multiple photos. Leon had glanced at some of them, morbid curiosity pushing him to know exactly what Dolence would have done to him given the time.

He did not get far before he had to leave his office, get in his car, and call Alexander just to hear the man read to him.

The worst part was that Dolence had added photos of Leon to his collection. Dolence had gloated about having access to Leon’s phone, to everything he had sent Alexander; somehow, Leon hadn’t considered that he would create physical copies of his… _favorites_. Pictures Leon had sent to Alexander, only meant for Alexander to see, became evidence that was shared between the FBI, the DSO, and the BSAA.

The photos were discovered in late January. Leon realized that at least three different agencies had access to pictures of his genitalia and whatever tightrope he had been balancing on since 1998 _snapped_. Leon had his handler Hunnigan within the DSO, but his job was directly overseen by the president. He didn’t have to go all the way to the top, but he damn well felt like going all the way to the top anyway.

He marched into the oval office, slammed his fists down on President Gomez’s desk, and said, “Just fucking fire me. Let me go, put me out of my misery.”

She said, “I may be new to this job, but I’m certain you should be discussing this with your handler. Fortunately, I’ve already had a lovely discussion with Hunnigan and so here is what will happen: You will be scheduled for a psychiatric evaluation. Following that evaluation, you may be entitled to four or more weeks of psychiatric leave. Hunnigan is, as of 2:00 PM today, taking you off the investigation. Because you were targeted by Dolence and are still living, everyone with access to Dolence’s assets must sign a privacy agreement to protect your identity.”

He had to give Gomez credit, she was much better prepared than Smith.

“That’s not going to do jack shit and you _know_ it.”

Her mouth tightened as his foul language. He could see that she herself was operating on little sleep and less goodwill. “Trust your colleagues to handle this situation with professionalism and with respect for you.”

“I don’t trust them to fill the coffee pot in the morning.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

Her nostrils flared. There were bags under her eyes to rival his own. Whatever had made her run for president had to have been pure madness, especially knowing some of the disasters she would inherit from her predecessor. Her hands folded with deliberateness, one on top of the other, over her desk. What she said next was likely the result of months of frustration. “You can _quit_.” she snapped coldly. “Instead of taking up _my_ time and begging me to fire you when I have a nation to look after.”

He wanted to so badly. What would they do if he did? The only reason he had agreed to work for the government in the first place was to protect Sherry. Now that Sherry was a full-grown woman, the government had nothing he wanted.

On the other hand…

As much as Leon hated that it was true, he was good at what he did, and what he did was necessary for the world. If he turned in his gun now and walked away, he did not doubt that the job would follow him. Someday, he would wake up with Captain Chris Redfield banging down his door. Or maybe Claire would softly ask for him to come back. Perhaps Sherry would need his support. Rebecca could always ask for his help.

… It was a good thing that everyone who mattered knew where to find him then, wasn’t it?

“I quit,” he said simply.

Her expression went slack as she was called on her bluff. “Kennedy,” she began, and her hands spread over the surface of her desk as if to ask him to calm down. “Don’t throw away your life because of this. Think rationally.”

“You’re right. I need to think smart.” He splayed his hands across the desk just opposite her own, leaning over. “I’m retiring. I’ve completed more than twenty years of service between US-STRATCOM and the DSO. I’m leaving and I’m taking my benefits with me.” 

She gaped at him. Being in office less than two weeks, she had obviously not been prepared for this surprise. “This government need you. The world needs you. Would you really be so selfish?”

The truth was that he didn’t have many missions left in him. If it hadn’t been for Sasha, Dolence would have overpowered him. If he stayed, Leon wouldn’t survive much longer.

“I think I’ve earned the last few years of my life to myself.”

Her hands clenched into two, well-manicured fists.

“The world shouldn’t depend on one or even two people,” he told her. “If it does, that’s an infrastructure problem, not a me problem.”

“Your experience is invaluable to the Division of Security Operations!”

“With all the free time I’m about to have, I’ll write a book about my experiences. I’ll mail you the first copy. I’ll even sign it.  
The president of the United States looked at him with pure exhaustion and annoyance. He had to give to her, she had at least tried. “You have to file your two week’s notice with your handler. I may have direct presidential oversight of you specifically given your status, but I will not have my name in anyway connected to you leaving in the first month of my presidency.”   
“I’ll date it for two weeks ago and we’ll just say today is my last day, shall we?”

“As long as your handler is the one to take you off the payroll and retire you, you can say yesterday was your last day. Please leave. I have a nation to look after and I sense that the DSO is about to go hunting for my head.” 

~::~

Leon stood in his apartment, a duffel bag at his feet with the very few items that held sentimental value and some change of clothes. He’d broken his lease with his landlord and was set to move out almost immediately.

He fiddled with his phone. Just do it, he told himself. Leon released a long breath and pressed the call button, putting his phone to his ear.

“Mind a little visit?” he asked when Alexander picked up.

“Ah, _kotya_. A little visit? How long is your leave this time?”

“Long.”

“… How long?”

“The rest of my life.”

“Hah! That would be something.”

Leon looked down at his bag. “I just retired.” He actually _heard_ Alexander gasp. “And I broke my lease.” Alexander’s breath audibly stuttered. “I am now old and homeless.”

“Homeless?” His voice was soft – wonderous. “My _kotya_? No, your home is with me.”

“Thank God.” Tension that had been winding in Leon’s shoulders let loose. “Have to admit, I wasn’t sure there for a second.”

“How could you ever doubt it?”

“For one, I Googled whether gay marriage was legal in Eastern Slav Republic and it’s not. So I’m going to have to file for a Temporary Residence Permit and then you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not until I am considered a legal resident.”

“Oh no. The horrors of living with the man I love for an indefinite amount of time…”

“A fate worse than death,” Leon agreed.

Alexander chuckled. “Come home to me, old man. Do you know what you will do next?” 

“I promised the president that I would write a book.”

“I have never seen you write of your own free will.”

“And you never will. It’s going to be a long time before she gets that book.”

“I suppose you can be a kept man,” Alexander teased. “Are you prepared to live on a primary school teacher’s salary?”

“Mm. The lap of luxury.” If his retirement funds didn’t follow him across the ocean, he still had a sizeable savings account to fall back on. The most he had ever spent his salary on were co-pays for doctor visits and plane tickets to Eastern Slav Republic during his vacations. His biggest issue would be getting his T-shots and he was resourceful enough to figure it out one way or another.

“You certainly treat my lap like a luxury,” Alexander purred.

“I treat your existence like a luxury.”

“That was unbearably sweet, _kotya_. Who are you and where has my macho American agent gone? Ah, yes, he retired. Is this the new you? Free to say every sentimental thing that comes to your mind?”

Leon swallowed thickly. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“I would not dream of it.” There was a beat of silence. “Tell me, _kotya_ , what has brought this about? Did your agency force you to retire? Or is this your choice?”

“My choice. I’m… tired.”

“I know.” His voice was gentle with understanding. “You have been tired for some time. What has changed?”

Leon leaned against the wall and crossed his one arm across his abdomen. He was about to release some demons into this conversation that would not be easily exorcised. He almost considered not saying anything, and yet… This was Alexander. He hated it when Leon forced himself to suffer alone. Leon stared sightlessly at his wall.

“Dolence kept a trophy collection…” he began, voice soft. “To remember all the men he’s assaulted over the years.”

“He is dead now,” Alexander reminded him. “He got his own in the end.”

Leon swallowed. “He had pictures of me. Photos that I’ve only ever sent to you. We figure he has a tech geek somewhere that has been doing his research for him and covering up his tracks.”

There was a long pause.   
“That,” Alexander replied, voice tight with emotion, “All the photos?”

“Not all of them. Just… the most explicit ones.”

“Oh, well, if it’s just _those_ ones.” Alexander sounded strangely like he was about to start crying.

“He didn’t have any of your nudes,” Leon reassured him. “Just mine.”

“And that is supposed to make this _better_?”

“It doesn’t make it worse.”

“God, Leon, that… That is… _fuck_. Please tell me that those photos are not considered evidence?”

“They are.”

Alexander released such a harsh breath it seemed like a sob. “Oh, God, I am remembering some of the photos you have sent me…”

“I think you’re taking this worse than I did.” Except Leon’s first reaction had been to retire on the spot.

“You are used to your life being a living hell. I still sometimes need to adjust to how often the universe punishes you.”

How fucking accurate.

“When will you arrive?” Alexander asked, still quietly sniffling. “When will you be home?”

“Should be about twenty hours.”

“I have decided. I am not letting you return to America. I will marry you here in my home and you will become Leon Scott Kozachenko.”

“Same-sex marriage isn’t legal in Eastern Slav Republic.”

“Father Leonid is half-blind. I will wear the wedding dress and call myself Alexandra. He will not know that we are both men.”

Leon’s eyes closed, a slight smile on his tired face. “You? In a wedding dress? Not going to lie, I’m intrigued. You sure he won’t notice your beard?”

“I believe we have just discovered the purpose of the wedding veil.”

Leon chuckled, eyes still shut. “We could get married in Finland.” The small country was near Eastern Slav Republic and allowed same-sex marriage.

“It would not be recognized here,” Alexander pointed out.

“Let’s get married in Finland anyway.”

He could actually hear Alexander swallow thickly. “Leon Scott Kozachenko?”

“Why not Alexander Igorevich Kennedy?”

“I imagine it will take a while to get a marriage license in Finland,” Alexander replied. “I will have time to sway you.”

Leon shouldered his duffel bag up onto his shoulder. “You try that,” he encouraged. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, _kotya_ ,” Alexander returned. “I will be waiting for you.”

~::~

Leon’s phone rang as he was getting into the taxi.

“Hello?”

“You fucking quit?!”

“It’s polite to say ‘hello’ back, Chris.”

“Fuck your hello, Leon, what the hell?”

Leon gave the driver directions and settled in for the ride. “You’re just jealous that I retired first.”

Chris cursed under his breath. “We need you to keep fighting.”

“I need to stop.”

The BSAA captain was confounded to silence.

“Imagine that,” Leon drawled. “I’m tired as hell and I’m calling it quits. I’m putting my life first for once. You should do it too.”

“The world needs us, we can’t be selfish.”

“The world needs to stop depending on the same two people to keep stopping apocalypses.”

“You know it’s more than just the two of us.”

“Then I should be allowed to retire without one of my friends yelling at me for taking care of myself.”

“We’re the best of the best, it’s different.”

“The difference between us is that I decided to step down and let someone else be the best of the best.”

“The difference between us is that I’m not willing to turn my back on our cause!”

“The difference between us is that I want to die happy and you want to die alone.”

The silence was cold. Leon muttered a soft “Shit!” and then took a deep breath. “Chris, I am so _fucking_ tired. I’m leaving America.”

“To be with _Kozachenko_.”

“Yeah, to be with my fiancé.”

“Your… Your what?”

“We don’t have a set date, but we’re dedicated to the idea of getting married in Finland someday,” he explained with a nonchalant shrug Chris could not see.

“I thought you didn’t plan that far ahead.” Chris’s voice was icy steel.

“I never planned that far ahead because I always told myself I wouldn’t live that long.” His head lolled to the side and he watched the scenery pass him by. “I’m a kept man now,” he said.

“This isn’t _you_ ,” Chris argued, sounding almost disgusted. “This isn’t calm and collected Leon Scott Kennedy, badass lone wolf and international hero. You’re a coward and you’ve given up!”

“Lone wolf,” Leon muttered back. “Since you know me so well, am I alone out of desire or necessity?”

Chris was quiet for a very long time.

“I didn’t go without backup for most of my government career because I didn’t want it. Everyone around me decided for me that I didn’t need it. I learned how to fight these monsters the same way you did – by trial and error. And everyone learned from my mistakes and victories, just like they learned from yours. You know what? I didn’t even fucking ask for _any_ of this. I never wanted to work for US-STRATCOM, I never wanted to work for the DSO, I never want to fight Tyrants and Lickers and _Las Plagas_! I just wanted to be a fucking cop in fucking Raccoon City without any _fucking zombies trying to eat me_! If I seem like a coward to you, after everything I have gone through and every sacrifice I have made, then that’s on you, not me. I did my time and now I’m going _home_.”

“I didn’t ask for this either,” Chris told him in a raw whisper.

“Then fucking retire instead of insulting me for finally doing what I want with my life.”

“If we’re both out of the game, the world loses and bioterrorism wins.”

“Or maybe you just have control issues and you can’t fathom that the world might just survive if you take a step down.”

“The last time I left, China happened.”

“That’s something you have to take up with the BSAA. Tracking down a guy with amnesia and PTSD to make him a team leader is some of the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard and everything that happened from that decision onward was their own damn fault.”

Something in that scathing remark toward the BSAA’s decision-making skills was apparently too far, though Leon couldn’t think of where that line was drawn.

“Fuck _you_ ,” Chris snarled, and then he hung up.

Leon smacked his phone down against his thigh and growled low in his throat.

He glanced at the driver. Whether or not he had caught and understood the entire conversation, he at least kept facing forward and made no indication of having heard shit.

Leon tipped him exceptionally well outside of Alexander’s apartment complex.

As he entered the building, his phone went off again. The contact said it was Chris.

“I don’t know what I said wrong,” Leon said before Chris could get anything out. “I won’t say that I’m sorry because I stand by what I said. But I don’t want to fight with you. I still consider you my friend.”

Chris sighed. “It’s going to be hard, adjusting to knowing that you’re not out here with me.”

“We work for different agencies. I’ve only been out there with you twice. I was assumed dead the first time and on vacation the second time, so you never really got a look at my good side.”

Chris chuckled, though it was a bitter sound. “We didn’t really ever run into each other on the job, but it was always reassuring to me to know that you were out there, fighting for our cause and saving the day.”

“It’s time to depend on other people. Have you considered talking to Claire? She misses you.”

“I miss her too.”

“Call her.”

“I should.”

“Have you talked to her at all since Dolence?”

“She saw me on the news and called me.”

“Talk to your fucking sister, Chris, you goddamn disaster.”

“Thanks for that, Leon, that was inspirational.”

“I’m a Hallmark card on legs.”

“You’re something on legs.”

A whole goddamn disaster himself. “I know you’re pissed at me, but you mind if I ask you a favor?”

“I’m not – okay… Sure, Leon. You can ask.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Chris’s breathing was ragged for a moment. “Mind if I visit every once in awhile?”

“You think you can handle seeing _Kozachenko_ long enough to actually visit?” At this point, Leon unlocked the apartment door and slipped inside. Alexander stepped out of the kitchen at the disruption, saw him, and his expression melted with affection.

Leon closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it. Alexander wandered close, his body trapping Leon against the surface, his lips at the corner of Leon’s mouth. Outside was white and cold and Alexander was warm and welcoming.

“I’m a big boy,” Chris was telling Leon. “I can handle saying ‘hi’ to Kozachenko.”

Kozachenko, pressed up against Leon, heard this and turned his head toward Leon’s phone. “Hello, Captain,” he greeted.

“Fuck _off_ , Kozachenko. Do you listen to all of Leon’s conversations? Shit, give him some space. Damn it, Leon, do you have me on speaker?”

Leon thumped his head back against the door. “I just got home,” Leon told him. “I have to go now. Don’t die out there.”

“I’ll try. Best of luck with retirement, Leon.”

“Thanks.”

Someday, hopefully, Chris would retire too. If they were all fortunate, it would be before the job killed him.

Leon put his phone in his back pocket, duffel bag sliding off his shoulder, and then just let Alexander kiss him for who knew how long. Sasha tasted like cinnamon and pastry.

“What are you eating?” Leon murmured against his lover’s mouth.

“Plushki,” Sasha rumbled back. It was a sort of cinnamon roll. “There is more for you in the kitchen.” Sasha’s mouth trailed across his cheek toward the angle of his jaw. “Are you hungry?”

Leon’s arms came under Sasha’s and up his back, hands spanning over scapulae and then bending over Alexander’s shoulders. “For something,” he said. He pushed a leg between Alexander’s thighs.

Sasha’s breathing stuttered. “I forgot to say,” he gutteraled. “Welcome home, _kotya_.”

Leon pressed his smile against Sasha’s throat. “For good this time.”

“I certainly hope so.” Alexander drew his arms around Leon’s waist and pulled him toward the bedroom. “Are you sure?”

“I hope so. I already got rid of my apartment and retired.”

“No. Not that. About sex.”

Leon could have bit Alexander’s head off. He managed to force himself past it. “I’m not confusing you with Dolence anytime soon.” He had made sure that even Dolence knew that.

“That does not answer my question.”

Alexander was watching him heatedly and yet also patiently. If Leon decided at that second that he actually did not want to be touched, Sasha would back down without argument.

Perhaps the truth was that Leon had not been thinking about sex at all lately. Up until he had let himself fall pliantly against the door, he had only been thinking about getting home and going to sleep.

Now that Alexander was there in his space and they were wrapped around each other, now that Alexander tasted like dessert and looked good enough to _be_ dessert, Leon found that he would very much like to have sex.

“I’m sure,” he answered at last, right before he pushed Alexander down onto the bed. Stripping was slow, as if they were giving each other time between every article of clothing to back out. Neither of them did.

“Lube?” Leon asked. Alexander pulled himself up the bed and stretched to rummage through their bedside table. His attention elsewhere, Leon crawled up the bed after him.

By the time Sasha handed him the half-empty tube, Leon was sitting on the other man’s lap and grinning. “Back in the lap of luxury,” he burred.

Alexander snorted and laid back, letting Leon have his throne. He curled one hand behind his head underneath a pillow to support himself. The other he let trail down his body to the apex of Leon’s thighs where he began play and massage. Leon sighed with pleasure and rolled his hips down into Alexander’s ministrations.

With a lube-wet hand, he leaned forward on his knees so that he could reach behind and stroke Alexander to hardness. Sasha gyrated into his fist, biting down on his lower lip as heat began to build between them.

Leon arched forward and down and Sasha rose to meet him so that they could continue to kiss – on the mouth, their cheeks, their jaws, their throats…

Two fingers were deep inside of Leon, curling toward his belly button. Alexander was stretching his hand so that his thumb would errantly play with Leon’s dick, giving it teasing little flicks and rubs.

Leon pushed his nose into the junction of Alexander’s shoulder and neck, breathing him in – what was that spice? Was that just the natural scent of men in Eastern Slav Republic? Or was it the Prince Wladimir Kusmi tea Alexander kept stocked up on…

Leon woke up to the sound of Alexander’s alarm going off. A solid, warm weight on Leon’s chest grumbled and moved, silencing the noise.

“ _Damnit_ ,” Leon hissed. “Did I fall asleep during sex _again_?”

Just like last time, Alexander laughed at him. Because he was an asshole. “This time, you managed to fall asleep on top of me during sex. I will not take it as an insult to my _technique_ this time.” Alexander twisted himself up and out of bed. “Instead, I shall take it for what it really means. You are tired, _kotya_. Stay home and rest. I will be back after school.” He stripped out of his pajamas at the foot of the bed, folded them, and then put them on the bedside table for the next night. Naked, he went to the closet and pulled out his suit for the day. He threw a flirtatious leer over his shoulder as Leon watched unrepentantly. “I said _rest_. That is quite the opposite.”

Leon’s hand was moving under the blanket, absentmindedly stroking. “I woke up horny,” he said with a sleep-rough voice. “You can’t be much better off.” His hazy eyes drifted down Alexander’s body. “Would be embarrassing if any of your kids asked why there was a tent in your pants.” Sasha had also awoken rearing to go and shoving himself into his boxers and slacks proved to be an amusing spectacle for Leon.

The other man gave him an admonishing look. “It is very cold outside. By the time I get to class, this,” and he gestured at his erection, “will no longer be an issue.”

“I can make it not an issue too.”

“You will only increase my number of issues.” Alexander pulled on a long-sleeved button-down and then kneeled on to the bed to plant a kiss on Leon’s cheek. “I love you, _kotya_. Take this time to rest. I will see you again shortly.”

“I’m not tired anymore.” He was _exhausted_. “Try for me, _kotya_.” He nipped at Leon’s bottom lip and then kissed him despite Leon’s morning breath. “I will reward you when I get home. Whatever you like.”

“Are we talking sex or dinner?”

“Why not both?”

Leon considered his options. He certainly was not prepared to go to school with Alexander. To be honest, he had no desire to leave the apartment for the foreseeable future. Leon would like to recuperate for a few days at least. Hide and lick his wounds. Let Alexander lick his wounds. Very likely lick a few other things that would make Leon feel good.

“I get to sit on your cock,” Leon finally decided, “while you feed me chocolate.”

“Sounds decadent,” Alexander purred. “Shall I call you a handsome man as I do so?”

“Might as well go for the full experience. Why not?”

“Stroke your dick and press my fingers on your tongue?”

Leon hummed, eyes shutting. “This is not how you get me to go back to sleep.”

“Perhaps I want you to think of me and masturbate when I am gone. When you have tired yourself out, you will sleep. And then you will be wide awake for when I spoil you later, as you want.”

Leon nudged aside Alexander’s shirt collar so that he could suck a mark into the other man’s collarbone. Sasha shuddered under his touch, the tent in his slacks becoming more pronounced.

Leon had told Dolence that he could feel Sasha up to his throat sometimes when the angle was just right. That hadn’t been an exaggeration.

“If your dick was its own person, I would be cheating on you,” Leon told him.

Sasha sputtered. “W-what?”

Leon shrugged unrepentantly. “I love you, but I love your _massive cock_ too. I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

The expression on Sasha’s face was _priceless_. The control it took to keep his own expression blank as Alexander tried to figure out why this was a thing they were talking about was monumental.

“I am fortunate then,” Alexander eventually replied, “that my dick is not its own person. I would have several problems if it were. Would my codename still be Massive Penis?”

Leon thumped his head against Alexander’s shoulder, laughter bubbling in his chest. “ _Fuck_ , I love you. Go to school, Massive Penis.”

“Remember, treat yourself nicely. And then I will treat you nicely when I come back home.”

“I’m treating myself nicely,” Leon purred, playing with himself under the covers and out of sight. “Would you like to see?”

“Good _God_ , I will miss class if you show me. Be good for me, _kotya_. You like being good for me.”

Leon caught his bottom lip between his teeth, beginning to smirk. “I guess I do. That just means you have to get out of here fast before I decide to put on a show.”

Alexander quickly grabbed a tie and his suit jacket and folded them over his arm. “I am gone! I am gone. Have mercy on me.” Alexander hurried out of the room with a chuckle. Leon could hear him in the next room, making himself a quick breakfast.

Leon stroked his dick, then dipped a finger inside of his hole. The dry burn had its own appeal and he added another finger, forcing his body to stretch around him.

He wasn’t necessarily a chatty or loud person in bed. Since he could still hear Alexander, though, he decided to make an exception.

“UH, UH, UNNN, SASHA, IT FEELS SO _GOOD_.”

“Fuck you!” Sasha yelled back, outright laughing. “That is not even what you sound like when you cum!”

Leon pushed his face into his pillow, cackling.

Oh, hey, that spicy scent. This was Alexander’s pillow…

~::~

Dolence was chasing him around his manor, trying to force Leon to eat a bag of cocktail wieners. Leon was naked as he raced through the corridors.

“You’ll like it!” Dolence was yelling far too close for comfort. “Everyone likes my baby carrots.”

Leon dashed into the in-home theater. On the stage was an immense four-poster bed. Alexander sat on it, his button-down shirt open to his navel and wearing tight black slacks. His eyes were glowing red. Crawling over the bed behind him was a mass of Lickers, indistinct from one another and yet Leon knew that there were many of them.

“I am with you, _kotya_ ,” Alexander said. He held his hand out and Leon was suddenly there with him on the stage, letting himself be pulled onto his lover’s lap.

He looked over his shoulder and found that every seat in the theater was filled. Most of the faces were indistinct while others he recognized. He saw BSAA agents, DSO agents, Chris, Rebecca, Billy the Tyrant, Claire, Sherry, Jake, Ada, and even several state policemen he had dealt with recently. He saw some representatives, the former and present presidents, and Trevue, Belmont, and Kint as they had looked in life.

“Make them go away,” Leon told Alexander.

“As you wish,” Sasha said, as if this was _Princess Bride_.

Every seat was filled by a zombie instead, rotten and groaning with eternal hunger. Leon recognized none of them.

“Good enough,” he said, even as some zombies scurried out of their chairs and rushed toward the stage. They did not come up the stairs but instead tried to claw their way up the front and failed.

Somewhere in the horde, Dolence was yelling, “My wiener! My wiener! Stop eating my wiener!”

Alexander twisted them around so that Leon landed on the bed beneath him. Instead of getting on top of him, Sasha drew away. The swarm of Lickers he had seen earlier were suddenly all around him. Their tongues dragged over his chest, into his mouth, between his legs, and inside of him. Every hole was full and he felt that there were more Lickers just out of sight, waiting for their turn.

Leon managed to turn his head and saw Sasha standing by the bed, watching with a soft, loving smile on his face. “You deserve to be spoiled,” Sasha told him.

Dolence crawled onto the stage and stumbled to his feet. His face had changed, pincers punching out of his cheeks and tentacles writhing where his mouth should have been. Where his eyes should have been were two empty holes that stared in Leon’s direction. He held a mini hotdog up high as he marched toward Leon.

He got as far as where Alexander was standing. Sasha daintily plucked the tiny sausage from Dolence and popped it into his own mouth. Dolence’s monstrous face stared at Sasha with dismay. “That was awful,” Alexander told the distraught monster. “The worst meat I have ever tasted.” With that said, he grabbed the old man by his shoulders and pulled him close. Sasha’s mouth opened wide, his mouth full of ragged, sharp teeth just like the Lickers that were energetically and endlessly pleasuring Leon.

Leon watched as Alexander cleanly bit off Dolence’s head, pincers, tentacles and all, and swallowed it. His expression as Dolence’s body collapsed to the ground was of disgust.

Sasha, after living through a civil war, would not waste food. He also would not feed food to Leon that he found subpar. Knowing this, Leon held back his offer to help Alexander eat Dolence’s corpse and simply watched instead as, with a grimace, Alexander effortlessly lifted the corpse up and practically swallowed it whole.

As soon as the body was gone, Sasha fell into a horrible coughing fit. Blood spattered on the stage.

“You’re just thirsty,” Leon told him. Somehow, he was able to push the entire frenzied orgy away from him with just the push of one hand. He was soaking wet and sticky as he sat up on the edge of the bed and opened his legs wide. “Come here.”

Sasha groaned as he stumbled sluggishly toward Leon, looking gray and dead. His knees buckled under him and he collapsed between Leon’s spread thighs, hands so cold that they burned where they were clenched just above Leon’s knees.

Alexander’s milky white eyes rolled in their sockets as he opened his mouth wide against Leon’s cunt. A cold, dry tongue pushed inside of his hole and lapped at his inner walls.

“Feel better?” he asked once Alexander pulled away. He was healthy again, _alive_ and no longer gray. His dark eyes were affectionate as he gazed up at Leon.

“Much better,” Sasha said, and then he pushed Leon back into the frenzied orgy of Lickers.

~::~

Leon woke up feeling like his bladder was about to explode and that his head was full of cotton. He rushed to the bathroom, almost pissing himself on the short journey, and stretched his sore shoulders and back as well as he could in the matchbox-sized space as he did his business. His mouth was disgusting and his skin felt gritty. His hair was greasy and he was just all around not at his best.

He practically tripped into the shower and made a strong attempt to brush his teeth and scrub his body down at the same time. He was sticky and wet between his thighs – holy shit, had he had an orgasm during his fucking sleep? He did feel particularly loose and content. What had he dreamt of?

He washed his hair and then just let cool, refreshing water run down his face, helping to alleviate the last of his exhaustion. He felt as if he had been sleeping for days. Now that he was more awake and feeling clean, he was able to focus on his stomach, which felt like it was gnawing on itself with hunger. Or was that dehydration?

Between retiring and getting to Eastern Slav Republic, he hadn’t given himself a lot of time for food or sleep. It had basically been one snap decision after another until he was where he stood now, staring bewilderedly at shower stall tiles as he tried to recall what the last thing he had eaten was.

He shouldn’t be surprised that he kept falling asleep while trying to have sex.

He eventually meandered from the shower to the bedroom where he got dressed. Alexander must have taken his duffel bag from the front entrance and put it in their bedroom because Leon found it by the closet. He delayed food a little longer so that he could actually put everything away. He now _officially_ lived here. Alexander’s landlord had been asking for this to happen for more than two years. Fortunately or unfortunately, Leon didn’t have much that he had brought with him and so settling in took little time. Practically nothing looked different after he integrated his meager belongings with his lover’s.

He put his laptop and charger in the living room for the time being, tucked his vibrator and _its_ charger with the lube in their bedroom table, and then put his small photo album with Alexander’s other books on the small bookcase next to his desk.

Leon glanced out the windows and decidedly shut the curtains. Alexander lived on the fourth floor, but Leon wasn’t ready to take the chance of being seen.

When he finally got to food, he was hungry enough to grab whatever was easiest. He threw some meat and cheese on rye bread and practically inhaled it, guzzling water between bites. The hunger abated, but did not go away, and so he more sedately made himself a second sandwich with a dessert of plushki on the side.

His plate full again and with his third glass of water, Leon sat down at the kitchen table and turned on his phone. There were a number of texts, missed phone calls, and voicemails. Leon made a short list of the people he would actually get back to in time: Hunnigan, Claire, and Sherry.

The clock on his watch said that it would be a little more than an hour until Alexander got home.

Leon glanced around the kitchen. The apartment was quiet.

Yeah, he was not going to be the househusband kind and he could tell that instantly. It was time to figure out what to do with his retirement.

Alexander came through the front door as Leon was filling out his Temporary Residency Permit application form.

“What kind of old man hobbies do you think I should pick up?” Leon asked without looking up. A Temporary Residency Permit was valid for three years and he had to apply to it first before he could get citizenship. The process was more difficult for him because a TRP was generally given out to individuals coming to Eastern Slav Republic for school, work, or marriage. Leon wasn’t looking for the first or second and wasn’t allowed to have the third.

“Old man hobbies?” Alexander pressed a kiss to his head and then continued past him, preparing to strip off his suit and get into a more casual outfit.

“I need something to do with my free time.”

“You mean I do not take up all of your free time?”

“Sure, if you stayed home with me.”

“Hah!”

“Exactly. You’re not ready to retire and be an old man with me.”

“My country’s economy is still recovering after our civil war. My retirement benefits, at the end of my career, will not even be enough to pay for this apartment. You have tied yourself to a very poor man.”

“That’s fine. I just checked my savings and it looks like I’m set to be your sugar daddy.”

Alexander chuckled as he sauntered back into the living room, wearing aged-soft jeans and a shirt. “My sugar daddy? You will give me money and baubles to make you feel good?” His hands landed on Leon’s shoulders and then began to run down his body. Alexander leaned over the back of Leon’s chair to lick a broad stripe up the side of Leon’s neck. “Shall I earn my keep now?”

Leon carefully put his laptop on the coffee table and fell back into the chair. His hands rested on the padded arms and he let his eyes close as Alexander’s one hand slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants and the other shoved under his loose shirt to fondle his chest.

The hand in his pants nudged his legs apart and began to stroke his dick.

Leon’s breathing stuttered. “So… Old man hobbies.”

Alexander hummed thoughtfully, mouth against Leon’s neck. “I think crochet would be useful. I did a bit of sewing as a lifetime ago.”

“What if I’m the kind of old man… who wants to play chess in the park?” His hips twitched up toward Alexander’s ministrations, fingers forming claws in the chair’s arms.

“In _this_ weather? There is no park, there is a glacier.”

“I have to make chess interesting somehow.”

“Why not take up cooking?”

“Oh? You would let me cook in _our_ kitchen?”

“You can cook in someone else’s kitchen.”

“But I live here. I should be allowed to use that kitchen.”

“I like having a kitchen!” Alexander removed his hand from Leon’s pants to spit on his palm and get his fingers wet. A clever way of not going cunt-to-mouth.

“You can teach me how to cook!”

“Alright, _kotya_ , first you put water in the pot and then you _do not forget that you are boiling water for five hours and ruin my pot_.” His hand was back in Leon’s pants, fingers splaying his cunt open.

“That was…” Alexander was taking his vengeance by thrusting a single finger inside of him. “ _Once_.”

“I have forgiven, but I will never forget.”

Leon scoffed despite himself. “Take off your pants, I’ll make you forget.”

“That is not seductive, that is threatening!”

Leon lowered his voice and let it go husky. “Take off your pants, babe. I’ll make you forget _everything_.”

Alexander groaned. “I suppose that is an improvement.”

Alexander stood up and cocked his head toward the bedroom. He himself went to the kitchen to wash his hands and grab the chocolate.

Leon was naked in bed by the time he appeared. Lube in hand, Leon was already two fingers in.

“You took no time at all,” Alexander teased.

“Pants, Sasha,” Leon reminded him.

Alexander kept his gaze as he put the chocolates on the bed and then stripped out of the clothes he had just minutes before gotten on. “Let me treat you nicely,” Alexander crooned. “You are being so mean to yourself.”

“I have plans.”

Alexander kneeled on the bed and pulled Leon’s calves over his shoulders. “Plans can change.”

Leon considered this. “Well, damn, I guess they can.”

His lover grinned and proceeded to treat Leon _very_ nicely.

Later – much later – Leon was sitting on Alexander’s cock and getting fed chocolates. Alexander called him a handsome man and Leon let his lover lick the taste of cocoa and sugar from his mouth. When Leon no longer wanted chocolate, he put the box aside and picked up their book instead.

“Read to me?”

Alexander accepted the book. “Of course, _kotya_.” He pulled Leon flush against his body, Leon’s head pillowed on his shoulder. Alexander was warm and _alive_.

And Leon was…

Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what I JUST found out? Leon didn't go straight from Racoon City to working for the Division of Security Operations. No, he worked for US-STRATCOM from 1998 to 2011 and THEN he went to work for the DSO. HAH. So... Oops. Hah. Awkward. 
> 
> The list I based on my chapter titles off of is here: https://www.writerscookbook.com/stage-play-writing-ingredients/
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS TO: SpankinHotDudes, Gay_Magician, and puckistuck, who were kind enough to leave reviews on this story while it was in-progress. Puckistuck may or may not have almost made me cry - tears of joy - with their feedback. I am hopeful that, once this story is complete, more readers will leave comments. 
> 
> Can you feel that I had no idea how to end this story? Do you get that feeling? Because I got to page 40 and just couldn't figure it out after that. 
> 
> Please leave comments! They honestly make my day and I greatly appreciate them. Happy Holidays!


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